Casting Couch: Reposted
by Vindalootoo
Summary: Repost due to tech difficulties. Bad Luck is on NG's vanity label and Shu is doing anything and everything to pay the bills. A final trick gone bad changes his life forever. Chap 11: If Only You Try. COMPLETE...for now.
1. Collateral

**Disclaimer**: Gravitation and its characters are the property of Maki Murakami. I make no profit from this other than pleasure.

**Summary**: What if Shu weren't quite so innocent when he and Yuki first met? Bad Luck is an up and coming band on NG's vanity label and Shu is doing anything, and everything, to pay the bills. Just when the album is pressed and the goal is in sight, a final trick gone sour changes his life forever.

**A/N: re: re-post**: My apologies to everyone, but the first posting of Casting Couch got totally screwed up, taking the reviews with it, so I'm reposting the first two chapters along with the third chapter. I will NOT be adding to the original post.

**Warnings**: Gritty Realism. This is not a fluffy story, so please be warned. It's meant to be thought-provoking and a bit disturbing. Adult themes. Non-consensual sex, language, yaoi relationships...the usual in an _adult _Gravi fanfic.

My thanks to Headcase and Moon71 for their early perusal and observations and encouragement, and my apologies for how long it's taken me to actually post this after their super quick responses. Betas rock!

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Casting Couch  
Chapter One: Collateral  
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"Thank you, Tokyo!" Shindou Shuuichi shouted the farewell into his mic and ran off the stage, every neuron tingling with the thrill of a successful concert, every muscle turning to water as the last drop of adrenaline evaporated from his system. He collapsed into the first vacant chair that crossed his path and accepted, with blind thanks, the water bottle someone thrust into his numb fingers.

"Great job, Shu!" Nakano Hiroshi, Bad Luck's lead guitarist and Shuuichi's best friend since childhood, gave him a friendly _thunk_ on his head as he passed, making his customary dash to the bathroom.

Something about ending a concert made Hiro have to pee.

Shuuichi sipped, when he wanted desperately to gulp. Hiro came off having to pee, _he _had to drink about a gallon of water before he could.

Go figure.

They both sweated like pigs onstage, both worked their tails off, yet they had 'diametrically opposed' (according to their manager, Sakano) 'biological reactions.'

Weird, Shuuichi called it...and gulped water defiantly.

"Slowly, please, Shindou-san." Sakano's voice arrived first, and when Shuuichi lowered his water bottle, feeling ever-so-guilty, their spit-n-polish manager was standing in front of him. "Excellent, as always, Shindou-san, but we must protect that throat."

Shuuichi finished the bottle and tossed it into the recycle bin, before grinning up at his manager, little more than a silhouette against the still-strobing stage lights. "It felt good out there tonight, Sakano-san. Real good."

"You _looked_... fantastic."

Kami-sama, he knew that tone, even if the voice was that of a stranger. He didn't have to look beyond Sakano to know his manager had not arrived alone. Shuuichi's heart sank. He'd thought, he'd truly thought, all that was behind him. Their first single had done respectably. The album was cut and ready to ship. Surely, _surely_ he didn't have to grovel anymore.

"Are you hungry, Shu-kun?" the stranger asked.

"No," he answered flatly...to his knees.

"Nonsense," Sakano said, with a nervous-sounding laugh. Kami-sama, he played the part well: Sakano was never, _ever_ nervous. But he used that façade to manipulate with an ease even Seguchi Touma praised. "Shindou-san is always starving after a performance."

In private, of course. Seguchi Touma would never acknowledge such a talent where any of the manipulatees might hear. Manipulatees like this large man in a designer suit. Or Hiro. Even Seguchi's own young cousin, Fujisaki Suguru, whom Sakano had manipulated into playing keyboards for Bad Luck, leaving Shuuichi free to 'focus on singing.'

At the front of the stage. Dressed in outfits that would make a whore blush. Manipulated to that exposed position by Sakano's nervous pleas.

Shuuichi wondered, sometimes, just _when _he'd ceased to be a member of that set, the pawns the elite chess players manipulated, and began to see the game for what it truly was. He supposed it was the first time he'd naïvely agreed to have dinner with one of Sakano's 'friends.'

It was, so Sakano had explained afterward, when Shuuichi had gone to his manager in tears, necessary. NG had agreed to carry Bad Luck, but on the secondary, vanity label. Vanity. That meant Bad Luck had to pay for everything, from studio time to distribution to hiring venues like this club in which to perform. Shuuichi had no investment capital, and he'd never, _ever_ ask Hiro to risk his college fund. Sakano's 'friends' had 'investment capital,' but they'd needed 'collateral.'

Collateral. One night stands with the band's lead singer. A small price to pay, so Sakano had insisted, for success.

Of course, Sakano wasn't the one having to endure night after night of strange hands pawing at him. Sakano wasn't the one who had had to learn to put the reality of his sex life in one part of his soul and the dream of love in another. Sakano wasn't the one who had to find the lyrics of love within a muse battered by that encroaching reality of nameless, emotionless rutting.

But then, Sakano had had no idea just how naïve Shuuichi had been. Sakano still believed Shuuichi had been... well... as experienced as every nineteen-year-old boy claimed to be. Just like his 'friends,' Sakano had bought into Bad Luck's lead singer's androgynously sexual stage image. Bought into and cheerfully taken advantage of, when opportunity knocked.

And by the time Shuuichi had had to face the reality of that created image, an image he'd slipped on like a second skin from the time he was ten, an image he and Hiro played to the hilt... like a damned _game... _by that time, it had seemed pretty lame to proclaim innocence. Male, female... it didn't matter. If they wanted a piece of Shindou, they got it—for a price. And that price got Bad Luck in clubs like this and on a soon-to-be-available-at-a-store-near-you CD.

The fat, middle-aged man was still babbling what he probably thought were romantically enticing compliments. Shuuichi stifled the objections that filled him, made all the proper noises, and escaped to his tiny dressing room to change for an intimate dinner with Sakano's 'friend.'

A single rap at his door was all the warning he got, but he'd learned early on to shed his costume for street clothes in record time, so he didn't particularly care when Sakano slipped through the door.

"I brought you the ducats for the next concert."

Ducats. Free passes. For all the friends he didn't have. Ah, well, Maiko, his sister, would be home next week for the summer. She'd want to come. Maybe even have some friends she'd like to haul along for a college girls' night on the town. He shoved the tickets into his pocket and twisted back around to face the mirror.

He'd already begun to remove his stage make-up when his manager's face appeared over his shoulder, studying his half-clean face in the mirror.

"My friend _really _likes exotic."

Which meant finish cleaning the stage makeup, but replace eyeliner and in general, make himself up like the whore he'd become.

Shuuichi dipped his head, resigned, and applied a second pre-moistened sheet to his face.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump, and without warning, Shuuichi found himself sobbing uncontrollably into his crossed arms, the makeup scattered across the table and onto the floor.

"This is the last, Shu-kun," his manager's voice was uncharacteristically gentle. "The album is good. Very good. Better, if we'd managed to get the president's input, but I simply couldn't get him to so much as listen to your demo. He's convinced Bad Luck is simply one more Nittle Grasper rip-off, and you're nothing but a Ryuichi wannabe."

"But that's the problem." Shuuichi gulped, forced his pointless tears into oblivion, where they belonged. "That's exactly what I am." He grabbed another cleaner-sheet and scrubbed ruthlessly at his face. Sakano hissed objection and disappeared out the door, returning almost immediately with a washcloth dampened in the ice-melt from the cooler.

Shuuichi flashed him an apologetic glance and pressed the chilled cloth to his abused skin. He knew better. He knew his face, (for all he still looked like the monkey Hiro had always called him), like his body and his voice, was an asset to the band. His job was to take care of all of them. His future, but more importantly, Hiro's, depended on it. Hiro had given up everything to give Bad Luck a chance. Suguru, with his talent and his connections, would never have to worry about employment, but Shuuichi couldn't let his best friend down. Ever.

So, he took care of his monkey-face. Kept his body in shape. Didn't smoke, rarely drank alcohol, kept his caffeine intake strictly moderate, and in general thought people who did drugs to be the real idiots in life.

His one indulgence was his Pocky, and damned if he'd give that up. Not even for Hiro.

And damned if he didn't insist those 'friends' of Sakano's use condoms, giving and receiving, no matter _how_ much they were willing to 'invest.' Another lesson he'd learned fast, after that first time and a terrified visit to a local clinic. Funny how words like _STDs_, _babies_, and _dead _took on a whole new meaning after that one night.

"Shuuichi..." Sakano pulled a chair up beside him and sat down, swiveling the broken-down office chair Shuuichi was sitting on to face him.

Kami-sama, Shuuichi thought, he was in for one of _those_ talks, the discussions designed to reconcile him to Sakano's 'friends.' He stared down at the washcloth, wondering vaguely which of those stains were his, and which belonged to other performers, other no-names who'd rented this place to give a concert, hoping to be discovered. Hoping to become something other than a no-name.

"Shu-kun, you're wrong. You're nobody's _wannabe,_ do you hear me?" Sakano's fingers encircled his wrists, and Sakano's voice demanded he meet his manager's dark brown eyes. "I know Sakuma Ryuichi is your idol, but you're _not _him. You're special. You've got a... purity Ryu can only dream about. I don't know how you do it. I wish with all my heart we'd been able to get Seguchi-san's input to display that quality to it's best advantage, but he's been unbelievably stubborn. I...overplayed my hand with other, lesser bands in the past. He won't listen to me any more."

Shuiichi didn't know what to say. _Purity_ was the last word he'd ever again apply to himself.

"It's my fault," Sakano continued, "I haven't the contacts or the vision to help you the way you deserve. It sickens me to put you through this nonsense with these child molesters and I can only thank all the gods that have helped you resist their destructive influence. Fortunately, you're not a child, for all you seem, despite everything you do, to have the innocence of one. I wish... but I don't know what else to do. There are so many bands now, so many outlets for the legitimate investors. These men and women... they have money, but that's all they have. You... give them a legitimate tax deduction as well as a night to remember. I don't know—and don't _want_ to know—what you do for and to them—"

"Nothing. _Nothing!_" Shuuichi cried out, interrupting this crazed flow of unwanted information. He didn't do anything. He was a funny-looking, awkward idiot; Hiro assured him of that daily. He was...he was nothing but a doll they played with. He couldn't understand, had _never_ understood why these people were interested in him. The only thing, the _only_ thing he had to offer was a night with the lead singer of what one day might, and that was a very large might, be a famous rock band.

"I told you, Shu, I don't care. As long as you don't get hurt. I've had to count on you to be honest with me on that score."

That much was true. He'd flat out left, once, when it got too rough—run away, actually, bleeding and terrified—and Sakano had never blamed him, even though they'd lost a lot of money.

Neither had the behavior been repeated.

Sakano tried. Sakano had tried, very hard. And he hadn't been hurt. Not really. He was no girl, to whine about love and virginity. It was just...sex. Sex didn't mean anything to guys. Right?

He pressed his lips on the tears that threatened again.

Right.

"Whatever they get from you," his manager persisted, "it's better than any drug. The word got around, and that's _how _we got the money we needed."

"If we've _got_ what we need, then why—"

"This man... he's not money, Shu-kun, he's distribution. He heard about you from one of the investors and he's..." Sakano frowned. Hard. "He's waffling. He's the buyer for a huge chain of stores. He decides what those stores carry and what they play in house. You've got all the talent in the world, but you and I both know that's nothing without distribution and exposure. Once people hear you, Shu-kun, they'll buy. I promise you. Impress this man, make him happy, and you've got your million copies sold. Guaranteed. _Sold, _Shu, not just distributed."

A million copies. The dream of his youth. His and Hiro's.

Funny how unimportant that seemed at the moment. At the moment, all he could think of was those thick lips leaving a trail of slime across his neck, the fat hands stroking, invading... the large body pressing...

"Please, Shu. Once more. Just once."

He bit his lips and closed his eyes.

And nodded, before his courage left him.

**TBC**

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Please R&R.


	2. A Beautiful Word

**Disclaimer**: _Gravitation _and its characters are the property of Maki Murakami. I make no profit from this other than pleasure.

**This is an AU,** chapter one caveats still apply. :D

**A/N: re: re-post**: My apologies to everyone, but the first posting of Casting Couch got totally screwed up, taking the reviews with it, so I'm reposting the first two chapters along with the third chapter. I will NOT be adding to the original post.

**Chapter Title:** those who actually got through to Chapter Two in the initial posting will note that it's title is changed. That's all that's changed. I just thought this title suited the soul of the chapter better.

**Warnings: Gritty Realism.** This is not a fluffy story, so please be warned. It's meant to be thought-provoking and a bit disturbing. Adult themes. Non-consensual sex, language, yaoi relationships...the usual in an adult Gravi fanfic.

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**Casting Couch  
****Chapter 2: A Beautiful Word  
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"Don't forget to lock the door behind you!"

Shuuichi silently obeyed, leaving the 'investor's' hotel room behind him, feeling lighter of heart than he had in months.

The last time. Sakano had promised. The last time, the last time, last, last, last... oh, what a beautiful, _beautiful_ word...

He skipped and danced his way down the steps and out into the street. As usual, he was in an unfamiliar part of town and as usual, he was going to have to find his own way back to the studio. Curious how these investors of Sakano's never cared whether the lead singer of their 'investment' caught pneumonia on his way home. Or got mugged.

Or raped.

Or murdered.

To them, Shindou Shuuichi was nothing but a tax write-off. With benefits.

Shuuichi laughed off his own morbidity and on a sudden whim, headed for the park across the street from the hotel, dancing to the music in his head. He wasn't sleepy, wouldn't be until the throb in his ass dissipated, he knew that from frustrating experience. Sakano's investors always insisted they were having a good time, but somehow, _his_ enjoyment of the evening was never particularly important. Oh, he'd come... several times. He couldn't really help himself. His own body responded with all the vigor of horny youth, but that didn't mean he liked it. Any of it.

Didn't mean he didn't cry into his pillow until the ache in his head overpowered the ache in his behind.

But he really hadn't had much choice, not if he wanted to sing. It was, so Sakano had made clear in that private meeting following the first 'dinner party,' part of the game he had to play to make it big. Sakano _hadn't_ known how naïvely ignorant he was. Had been honestly appalled to discover his client hadn't _known_ what he'd agreed to simply by going to that dinner. It was a game played often enough, so Sakano claimed, within the vanity label business. A game he'd simply assumed Shuuichi understood.

Sakano had explained all that, then given him the chance to back out...even as he'd made it clear that calling it quits would end the dream. Everyone, these days, so Sakano had explained, thought they could make it as a singer, a writer, or a mangaka. All those no-talents, so Sakano had explained, had milked dry all other avenues of funding long before Bad Luck came along.

Which meant, Shuuichi had had no choice. He wasn't about to give up on the dream. He knew the only place in the world he belonged was onstage, singing his heart out to the world. And that meant, quite simply, playing the game.

But the game was over now, he thought, spinning in time to the music only he heard. He _had _made it, damned if he hadn't. They had the CD ready to ship and a concert tour nearly finalized, awaiting only the reviews on the first week of sales, and sales, the fat man had promised, were in the bag. These nights of courting investors were finally at an end.

He spun again, wishing—Oh, how he wished—for one of those fancy MP3 players like Hiro had. He'd eyed them often enough, but couldn't justify the expenditure, no matter it could be a tax write-off for Bad Luck. In the exchange, an MP3 was a night with one of the lesser investors in one of the seedier hotels, and not worth it. Not worth it at all. Not when his own head could supply the tunes.

And so, he spun to those tunes in his head. Spun and spun until, breathless and dizzy, he came up against a railing and clung there, like a drowning man to a life preserver, eyes closed as the wonderful giddiness slowly subsided.

When it was safe, he opened his eyes...on a wonderland of spinning stars.

And laughed softly at himself: it was only the city lights, but oh, such a view.

Chilled, now he'd stopped moving, he shoved his cold hands in his pockets, found, along with those useless ducats, a paper, a napkin, from the feel. Curious, not remembering putting it there, he pulled it out.

It was the words to a song. Sort of. An idea, mostly, that had come to him in the middle of a solitary dinner at MacD's last week. He'd almost forgotten about it. It wasn't great, hadn't truly begun to gel, but it was a start. He leaned on the railing and looked out over the lights of the city, letting the feelings more than the words run through his head, trusting his hindbrain to sort out the lyrics and let him know when they were ready.

A sweet-scented breeze rose, bringing with it a hint of a melody, a suggestion of the soul behind those elusive lyrics hanging almost forgotten in his hand. He closed his eyes and as the scent washed over him, he began to hum, adding the formative melody to the breeze.

"Nice voice." The dry, cynical tone set oddly on the beautiful baritone voice. "But you should take it to a karaoke bar before some nature lover has you arrested for disturbing the peace."

Shuuichi started, twisting away from the railing, turning toward the voice, wincing from the bright light on the far side of a tall graceful figure.

"You write this?" The silhouette lifted a hand. A piece of paper fluttered wildly between two fingers, as if trying to escape.

Shuuichi realized, suddenly, that his own hands were empty, and recognized the backlit napkin. "Yes."

"Lyrics?"

"_Yeah_." Wasn't it obvious?

What sounded very like a snort of disgust still managed, somehow, to be elegant. "You should stick to karaoke. Your voice doesn't totally suck, but those lyrics do. Bunch of virginal romantic tripe." The man began to walk toward him, his stride smooth, panther-like in its grace. "When will you teenyboppers learn you have to live life before you can write about it?"

The tall man released the paper as he passed Shuuichi. It fluttered away in the breeze, eluding Shuuichi's fingers to come to rest on the gravel. Shuuichi stopped its escape with the toe of his sneaker.

"You're welcome to your opinion," he said, bending to rescue the paper.

A pregnant pause, then: "Cocky little bastard, aren't you?"

"Maybe." He folded the paper and shoved it back in his pocket. "And maybe I just write about the way I think love can be, if only you try hard enough."

"Bull shit is bull shit, no matter how you sugar coat it." The man grunted and began to walk away. "Fuck. Write what you want. What do I care? It's not like anyone will ever hear that crap."

Defiance flared. He didn't know why he gave a damn about this cold-voiced bastard's opinion—maybe it was because tonight was the 'last time.' Maybe he just felt like finally, somehow, he was legitimate and didn't have to take crap from anyone—but suddenly, he wanted to shove that insult down the fancy-dressed throat.

"Hold up."

The tall figure paused, and twisted toward him, and the man's now-visible face took Shuuichi's breath away. He was... gorgeous. Sculpted features, pale hair glowing in the streetlight... not even the arrogant frown could destroy the effect.

If anything, it only increased the mysterious attraction.

"Yes?" Sharp. Annoyed. Impatient to be off.

Shuuichi fumbled in his pocket for the ducats, pulled out two and thrust them toward the man, who looked down his thin nose at the slips of paper.

"Passes," Shuuichi said abruptly. "To my next _concert._ Two of them, on the off-chance you can find some poor girl desperate enough to accept a date with a jerk like you."

He didn't know why he offered them, but it wasn't as if he needed them. Other than the one for Maiko, they'd just go to waste.

"Concert, eh?" A slow, one-sided smile tightened the thin mouth. "How old _are_ you, brat?"

"Not that it matters, but I'm nineteen. Twenty, next month."

The gorgeous man... snorted. That was, positively, a snort. "So... what is this, _brat_? A challenge? Planning to prove me wrong?"

"You _are _wrong, you arrogant prick." He strove for taunting, but somehow it came out a mumbled protest.

"Why? Because you've managed to convince the poor owner of some local dive to let you charge fifty yen a head to endure your caterwauling?"

"It's not a dive." And those tickets were worth considerably more than fifty lousy yen!

"No?"

"Scared?" Surely that qualified as a taunt, he thought triumphantly, and wiggled the fingers holding the passes suggestively.

Another snort, and the man snatched the passes with a lightning quick move of his hand.

Like a snake striking.

A slow, deliberate perusal of the tickets, and Shuuichi's triumph died as quickly as it had been born.

The gorgeous man was laughing.

"So," the disgustingly gorgeous-elegant-graceful-blond man said, when he'd caught his breath. "You're Touma's newest boy toy."

Indignation flared, but before he could protest, strong fingers gripped his chin and held him face-to the light for an inspection that had his blood racing before the inspection ended in a condescending pat of his cheek. "Sure, brat, why not?"

"Seguchi Touma is the president of NG records and my _boss_!" It was, Shuuichi decided, physically impossible for a man his size to look down his nose at a man as tall as the blond. Damn it. "I must ask that you speak of him with respect!"

A chuckle that was more sneer rippled the air between them. "I'll speak _of_ and _to_ my brother-in-law however I damnwell please, sweet-thing."

Shuuichi's blood ran cold, then hot. He didn't know what to protest more, the implication of _his _relationship to the owner of NG or... this man's. Seguchi Touma's brother-in-law. That famous author-person Hiro-the-bookworm always talked about. Damn... what was his name?

Memory flared. He took a deliberate step closer and in a move almost as fast as the author's had been, snatched the tickets back.

"What the—"

Triumph replaced the seething anger. He'd actually managed to startle this unforgivably-perfect person.

"I've changed my mind," he said, finding a satisfyingly chilly tone within. "You want to go? You can buy your own ticket, Yuki Eiri-san."

**TBC**

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**A/N**: Heh heh...do y'all like the way I kept the park meeting in? Not that it required much in the way of planning. There are certain images so darn key to these two, you just can't avoid them. Anyway...next time, _Songbird_.

**Reviews: Okay, repost A/N: I'm in a quandary. I'm assuming most of you who care read the reviews on the first chapter when initially posted, so these responses will make sense. If not, I have those reviews on my email notifications. If people would like me to put them up here, just at the end of the chapter I will happily do so, but I honestly don't know what the protocol is. As far as I know, they're no longer available on ffnet, even if you go to the original post. Sooooorrry! (And they were such thoughtful reviews, too! ARGH)**

I want to thank everyone for their reviews. It really helps me pinpoint and refine potential problems in upcoming chapters. (Not to mention, plan for the sequel!) :D So, if you like the story, please keep the gut reactions of what you _expect_ to happen coming. If those expectations aren't met in this first segment, they might well in the follow-up. I've known I wanted to write more along the story line but until your reviews started to come in, I wasn't certain where it would go. It's now taking shape. (Yay)

Because of time restraints, I'm going to keep my responses to a minimum this time, (much as I'd love to respond to everyone directly), and try to address the more universal questions/comments.

**Sakano **is kind of a cipher in this. He's not necessarily _bad,_ so much as playing a necessary and generally accepted game. This is not to excuse him, but in his own way, he's tried to look out for Shu. His manipulation of Shu's choice in the first chapter isn't _all_ manipulation. He really means what he says about Shu's talent and the part Seguchi's refusal to even listen to their tape played in the need to take this route.

The creative business is not a pretty one. There are always those with no creative ability of their own who want to bask in the light (and who bask in the power to control that talent, even for a short time.) I have no direct evidence that this happens in the music industry (though I'd be surprised if it didn't) but I've certainly known others to be caught in the trap in different creative milieus.

So...is Sakano to blame? The industry "standard?" Seguchi (for not listening?) Or maybe fate, since this set of circumstances put the boys in the park on this fateful night? I don't really have an answer. I just found it an interesting position to put Sakano into. :D The one thing that is true is that the Shu's of the world must, absolutely _must_ be ready to watch out for themselves, no matter whose the responsibility. Naivete is not natural selection positive in the creative industry...which is really one of the underlying themes of the manga/anime.

I also always had the feeling that Sakano's a recognized "type" within Japan (and not only there!) The clever but always submissive underling who's playing an accepted role, but who also has the talent to be more than he is. Whether in the manga or the anime, it's interesting that Touma is constantly piling more responsibility on him...just as Ryu piles more and more pressure on Shu. Curious coincidence? Or conscious parallel? Who knows except MM?

**YukiXShu: **As I hope is obvious from this chapter, this is definitely a Yuki/Shu fic. I honestly don't think I could stand writing anything else. They simply belong together.

'**Shuuichi**' vs '**Shuichi**': I know in the Tokyopop version, it's always translated as the single u, however, if you go by the Hiragana used in the original manga and when Shu's name is introduced, it's actually translated as "Shi-yu-u-i-chi (Shiyuuichi). The Japanese voice actors (esp K) frequently extend the "u" in the anime. Besides, one of my favorite spellings for Shuuichi uses the heart of autumn kanji for the syllable "Shuu." (As distinctly opposed to the kanji choices for "Shu") I'm not certain that's the kanji used in the manga, (guess I should look it up:D) but I've used this a couple of times in my stories and love the connotation. But mainly I just like the look and sound of the extended uu. Anyway...that's why I spell it this way. :D

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed. Hope you continue to enjoy! Til next time—Vin.


	3. Songbird

**Disclaimer**: _Gravitation _and its characters are the property of Maki Murakami. I make no profit from this other than pleasure.

**This is an AU, **chapter one caveats still apply. :D

**Warnings:** Non-consensual sex, language, yaoi relationships...the usual in an adult Gravi fanfic. I'm thinking I need to add: Gritty reality. This is meant to be disturbing and hopefully thought-provoking. It's serious subject matter. That's why it's rated M.

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**Chapter Three:  
****Songbird  
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"Eiri?" That breathy voice, coming from somewhere below his left shoulder, could only belong to Yuki Eiri's brother-in-law. "It _is_ you! I thought I was seeing things."

"Touma," Yuki responded flatly, keeping his attention on the stage where a skinny, pink-haired singer was doing a pretty good imitation of the energizer-bunny.

"What brings you here, Eiri? And alone? That's not like you."

"Ducats."

"Passes? From whom?" Pseudo-disappointment permeated Touma's smooth tones. Pseudo, because out-of-pattern behavior was, to a man like Touma, the stuff of emotional—or better yet, legal—leverage.

Eiri dipped his head toward the stage. "Your new toy."

One dark eyebrow lifted. "Mine? Hardly. Not my type. Not _my_ type at all. He's Sakano's current pet project. He's with our vanity label. I'm here promoting the other band playing tonight."

Vanity label. The musical equivalent of self-publishing. That actually surprised him. The kid was, if he let himself admit it, good. Very good. The lyrics were proving... not as terrible as he feared. Naïve, yes, but pretty. The voice, the undeniably sexy stage presence... those had passed viable the day the kid's voice changed.

Which brought up the nagging flaw in Touma's argument:

"Isn't that your cousin up there with him?"

Touma shrugged. "Sakano said he had a band who needed a synth player. Suguru wanted a break into the industry."

"So, you hooked him up with a vanity group."

Another shrug.

"You must have thought Shindou had _something_."

"I just wanted to silence Suguru's mother. She has a most irritating whine."

Touma's attitude was nothing new and meant little. The green-headed kid had talent on the synthesizer. Better than Touma had been at that age; Eiri'd heard the tapes. And his voice, singing descant to Shindou's exquisite tenor, was quite special, in that boy-choir soprano way.

Eiri wondered, in a vague, disinterested corner of his mind, would Touma have him castrated to keep his voice that way? He wouldn't put it past the too-charming shark of a producer.

"This is the first I've seen of... Shindou, did you call him?" Touma asked blandly.

Ah, Touma, Eiri thought with an inward smile, you're such a slick liar. Still, he wondered what that poor undersized cousin of Touma's had done to deserve a virtual death sentence—other than have an annoying mother.

Possibly it was just the fact that he _was_ potentially better than Touma. Saddle him with the stigma of a start with a vanity group and no recording studio would take him seriously.

And Touma's star remained intact.

"Curious. Shindou said he was with NG. Thought you kept the vanity stuff firmly separate from the real label."

A frown marred Touma's smooth face. "He _said_? I thought he must have sent you the tickets in the mail, a fan trying to impress his favorite author. I've seen your books lying around their studio. When and _where_ on earth did he have occasion to say _anything_ to you?"

Eiri shrugged. Delayed to answer until a particularly beautiful song faded into entranced silence, then under the cover of the flare of enthusiastic screams for more, replied: "The park. I was having a bad night. Went out looking for inspiration, and ran into him. I insulted him; he gave me the tickets... then took them back." He caught himself smiling at the memory and pulled his face sternly back into order, but not before Touma caught that traitorous expression.

"Took them back?" Seguchi asked watching him closely. Damned peroxided curiosity.

"After he figured out who I was, he said I could buy my own."

"Don't tell me you _did?"_

"Hell, no. I called your office and got a pass."

Touma chuckled. "So... was it worth the effort?"

"I hate these things, as you damnwell know. But what I think of _him _hardly matters. From the response of this crowd, I think you should rethink which label you use. And, as much as I hate to admit it, he's a walking goldmine up there, if he doesn't fade in the stretch."

"He does have a certain presence, doesn't he?"

"He sings like someone who's been diagnosed with terminal cancer."

Touma winced. "That's a disgusting thought!"

"Not at all. He gives up there like someone who's determined to pack all of life into a single moment and is sharing that moment with the world. Whatever drugs he's on, I want some."

"Why don't we go ask him?"

✴

In the end, Touma never made it backstage. As music fans spotted and surrounded the ex-Nittle Grasper, Eiri, cheerfully anonymous in this milieu, left his brother-in-law to the fruits of his youthful indiscretions, and, ducking past the guards into the backstage chaos of set breakdown, made his way to the dressing rooms, grabbing a bottle of water from a passing cart as welcome relief against the taste Touma's presence always left in his mouth. At the end of the hall, he found the door with a handwritten 'Shindou' sign tacked to it.

"Dammit, Sakano-san, you _promised_ me it was over!" The mesmerizing voice from the stage, hoarse now with fatigue, hinted of something else. Desperation. Possibly even panic.

Eiri, hand lifted to knock, paused.

A low murmur, then: "Do I have to?"

Another murmur, and, on a sigh: "What's the address?"

A moment later, the door knob turned and Eiri sank back into the shadows. The door opened. Sakano, the kid's manager, stepped out of the room, exuding his normal head-ducking obsequiousness. "Excellent job tonight, Shindou-san," he said, loudly. "Shacho-san was most impressed."

Hmmm...since 'shacho-san' had been standing next to Eiri the entire time, he wondered where toadie-san had gotten that notion. Ah, well, none of his business, the lies a manager used to manipulate his client. He waited until Sakano was gone, then headed once more for Shindou's dressing room, his curiosity now thoroughly aroused.

He noted the time it took for Shindou to answer his knock, noted the skimpy stage costume peeking out of the oversized robe, noted most of all the reddened eyes that peered through the cracked door. Puzzled, red eyes that slowly achieved recognition.

"Y–you came," the kid murmured, and a small, shaky hand rubbed his face, hard.

"Obviously. —Mind if I come in?"

"I..." Slender shoulders slumped beneath the robe, then shrugged. "Hell, why not?" Shindou stepped away from the door and dropped wearily into a chair in front of the mirror, reaching for a makeup-removing cloth, hiding his red eyes quickly behind the pre-moistened folds.

For someone who appeared nearly superhuman on stage, he was surprisingly small, almost painfully vulnerable, here in what should be his private sanctuary.

One did have to wonder what was supposed to be 'over,' though, if one were honest with oneself, one had a pretty damn good notion, only the details wanting filled. His was the vanity label, and there were plenty of vain people who wanted to claim they'd been _with _a star 'back when.' Fantasies, fantasies and more fantasies. And with that innocent face and sensually slender body, not to mention the voice of an angel, this poor kid had probably figured in his fair share.

He'd certainly figure in a few of Yuki Eiri's from here on out. He wasn't into men, but this kid could make the most dedicated heterosexual reconsider his options.

At least...the stage Shindou could. This one...this backstage, red-eyed shrimp roused his curiosity more than his libido.

Eiri swung the only other chair in the room around to face the dressing table, placed the bottle of water he'd lifted in front of Shindou, and settled into the chair, crossing his legs comfortably. Large eyes appeared from behind the cloth, spotted the bottle and looked at him in question. Stunning eyes that he saw clearly for the first time. Eyes that were something between a rich dark bluish-brown and, when the light hit them just right, purple.

Eiri lifted his chin toward the bottle. "You look like you need it more than I."

"Th–thanks." A chewed fingernail worked the security plastic free, dropping the clear strip carefully into a garbage can empty save for that strip and a few of those disposable makeup removing cloths. A long swig that chucked fully half the bottle later, and those eyes met his once again, eyes that strove for mature disinterest, even as they pleaded for reassurance. "S–so... what did you think?"

"Well, you didn't suck."

Curiously, his deliberately snarky tone roused a chuckle. "From you, I'll take that as a compliment."

"Whatever turns you on."

The fledgling humor died an infant death. Shindou winced, turned back to the mirror and applied a second towelette.

"Touma says you're with the vanity label."

Behind the towelette Shindou blushed bright red.

"I told him NG should snap you up for real while it can still afford you."

Those big eyes blinked at his reflected image. Startled.

"Yeah, brat, don't get all swell-headed, but you're... pretty good. Maybe even special, given the proper development."

A tiny smile twitched his really quite amazing mouth and grew into something more, conquering the shyness surprising in so open a performer. "Yeah, but you're a romance author. What do you know?"

Or perhaps not surprising. Perhaps that exposure on stage was so thoroughly instinct-driven that once off, Shindou began to wonder just how much he'd given away. To wonder, had he been a fool. Were people laughing at, not with him. Were they cheering him on only to give themselves more to laugh at.

To wonder, when the axe of reality was going to drop.

He'd seen hints of such an open nature in others. Ryuichi had it, though it was not so natural. And Ryu retained a certain mystery up there. This kid... the mystery appeared to be offstage, not on it.

What did he know? Eiri lifted a brow. "Enough to have called every success—and failure—NG has ever had. Touma listens to me, brat, so watch your step."

Shindou finished the water, then sat for a moment, cradling the empty bottle, playing with the pop-top. _Snap! Pop! Snap! Pop!_ Finally:

"Thanks." Low, almost inaudible, and with another glance, direct this time, of those brilliant eyes. "Wh–what did Seguchi-san say?"

"Sorry, kid. Even if it had been anything definitive, it wouldn't be my place to repeat it."

A heavy sigh, a glance at the clock on the wall, and a convulsive shudder, before Shindou pushed himself to his feet.

"I don't mean to be rude, Yuki-san, but I've got to leave. I... thanks for coming tonight. I was... pretty rude when we met. I... regret that."

Regret? That was interesting. Not to mention promising. This character intrigued him, he had to admit, and if he was honest, more than curiosity had been aroused tonight.

Eiri rose as well. "Can I give you a lift somewhere?"

The boy chewed his lip, his desire to accept painfully obvious, and yet: "Thanks, but... I've got a ride."

It was a patent lie, and Eiri wasn't surprised when, ten minutes later, sitting in his Mercedes outside the stage entrance, he watched the kid, stage clothing hidden beneath an over-sized orange hoodie, climb into a cab.

**TBC**

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**A/N**: Harrumph! And so we see how much Sakano's word is worth. Next chapter: _White (k)Nights._

**Reviews**: Again, I'm sorry not to be answering everyone personally, either in private or in here. I'm scum! But truly, I do appreciate each and every one. I'm deferring email time to editing and posting time. (And sequel time. Yes, it's happening. Yay!)

**Re: Casting Couch Shuuichi:** I'm glad you all seem to like him, although I'm sure there are those who don't who are just too polite to say anything. It is a different take, and really interesting to write. On the one hand, his naïveté regarding the actual act of sex is gone, but his hopeful innocence regarding relationships remains intact. I think that's one of the keys to what makes Shu...Shu—for me, at least. Regardless what life throws at him, he maintains this sweet conviction that romance and love are real. Regarding his backbone in standing up to Eiri...I don't think it's totally foreign to the cannon Shu, but stems in this story from several months of standing up to his "tricks" and demanding (among other things) that they wear condoms. (I actually find his take on that topic, coming up in a later chapter, one of his sweeter moments.) His backbone truly comes of age as a result of the sudden shift in his self-perception, i.e. that his "dinner" days are definitively done and he's finally the legitimate recording artist he's always dreamed of being.

Up to the point where he meets Yuki, the reality of his situation and actions has definitely taken a backseat to the "anything for his art" mentality. Now that it's over, (when he meets Yuki) he can look at it as something he's survived and can forget. It's time, as he sees it, to revel in being a success.

In this chapter, of course, that inner confidence has been shattered. That _wasn't_ the last time and he can never again trust Sakano's word. The proof that inner-Shuuichi is still alive, though, is in that little comebacker line about Yuki being an author (another recurring theme of my mature-Shuuichi, I fear. :D) I do like Yuki's role here of being Touma's _professional_ reality check. That came out of the blue as the story progressed. Yuki in this is probably more reflective of the anime Yuki.

More on **Sakano**: I didn't mean to absolve him in my **A/N **last chapter. Sorry if it sounded like that. I just find him an interestingly complex character. Even in the manga, he accepts and even admires some highly questionable tactics on Touma's part. He seems to me a type willing to play whatever games are accepted within his industry, without dwelling on the morality. And really, that's what he's doing. Does that mean I approve of what he does? Heck no. But as a writer, I find his potential motives very interesting to explore. (Not in this story, but in the sequel...very likely.)

As always, please R&R. It's really helping in this one to get your reactions.


	4. White kNights

**Disclaimer**: _Gravitation _and its characters are the property of Maki Murakami. I make no profit from this other than pleasure.

**This is an AU, **chapter one caveats still apply. :D

**Warnings:** Non-consensual sex, language, yaoi relationships...the usual in an adult Gravi fanfic. I'm thinking, after the first reviews, I need to add: Gritty reality. This is meant to be disturbing and hopefully thought-provoking. It's serious subject matter. That's why it's rated M.

✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴  
**Chapter Four: White (k)Nights  
**by Vindaloo  
✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴

(_"Who was that, Shu?"_)

Shuuichi stared out the cab window, seeing not the lights of Tokyo flashing by, but his best friend's thin, handsome face. Hiro had intercepted him as he'd ducked out the back entrance, trying desperately to avoid exactly that confrontation.

He hated lying to Hiro.

(_"Who?" _

(_"Tall, blond dude coming out of your dressing room just now."_)

A puzzled frown had wrinkled Hiro's forehead.

(_"Looked kinda familiar."_)

It had been a welcome distraction, and so he'd answered, as if he didn't know Hiro would recognize the name, which was only a little lie:

(_"Guy I met in the park the other night. Name of Yuki Eiri."_)

Hiro had, of course, squawked in protest, had demanded to know details and (more to the point) why his best friend in the whole world hadn't _told_ him about meeting one of his favorite authors and (even more to the point) why his so-called best friend hadn't _introduced _them, and by the time he'd smoothed things over with Hiro, the cab was there, just in time to effect a quick escape, having avoided the far greater lie of where he was headed.

The taxi pulled up at the entrance of a very fancy hotel. Sakano hadn't given him an address, had just told him the taxi would be waiting.

"H–how much?" he asked the driver.

"Covered, kid. Now hop out, will you? Got another fare waitin'."

"Uh, sure." He opened the door and slid out. "Thank—"

The cab took off, almost taking his hand with it as the door slammed shut.

"Shit," he muttered, and headed inside, digging in his pocket for the special key-card Sakano had given him.

✴✴✴

It didn't take a genius to figure out the likely cause for the kid's abrupt departure in his skimpy stage outfit. Vanity labels required funding. Obviously, the kid's body had been supplying that funding.

It was sick. It was wrong. And it was, dammitall, completely unnecessary. If Touma had only given that kid half a chance, he'd have come through for NG. Big time. As it was... from what he'd seen in the dressing room, the process of getting to this point might well have broken the charming brat he'd glimpsed in the park that first night.

It took more than talent to survive the soul-sucking music business.

There was still a chance. Slim, but a chance nonetheless, and damned if the gutsy kid didn't deserve that chance.

_You're just a romance author..._ Not many he'd met had the balls to say that to his face.

Still, Eiri thought, sitting in his idling car, staring across the street at the five star hotel into which Shindou had just disappeared, he had to be one of the world's greatest fools.

First, he let himself be seduced by curiosity...who was this charming park-brat and why was Seguchi backing him? Then, his work was affected...he went home and wrote for thirty-seven hours straight, stopping only for bathroom and beer breaks. Additionally, his heroine mysteriously developed Liz Taylor eyes and a silky, low voice. That didn't surprise him. After almost five years of full-time writing, he recognized a valuable muse when he encountered one.

And so, out of curiosity about this new muse, he went to the damned concert—

Only to be seduced all over again, this time by the voice of an angel and the sensually swaying hips of a luscious pint-sized demon.

And then, Touma had to go and pull a Seguchi, a moment that just increased his aggression level where his brother-in-law was concerned, making meeting Shindou imperative, if just to tell Shindou to his face and in front of Seguchi that Seguchi was an idiot for not producing Bad Luck himself.

Which didn't explain why he'd continued without Seguchi. Or why he'd gone ahead and told Shindou he had potential, which was only the truth, just not a truth he usually admitted to the artist in question. That . . . that out-of-character softness was Shindou's fault, completely. Shindou and his hypnotic, tear-filled eyes. He'd gone to check out the stage siren and found a vulnerable kid trying oh so hard not to be neither vulnerable or a kid.

And it was the look in those eyes as the door had closed between them that made him follow that cab and contemplate going into that building and hauling the kid out. . . . If only to take him, psychological wounds and all, and dump him in Seguchi's lap.

That . . . yeah, the look on Seguchi's face would definitely be worth it.

He put the car in gear and pulled out into the street.

✴✴✴

2010.

Shuuichi stared at the room number. A penthouse. Usually these 'trysts' were kept as low-key as possible. What had Sakano done to him this time?

Shuddering, he tapped the door lightly, hoping, foolishly, that no one would hear, that somehow he could honestly claim he'd come, but no one answered.

Very foolish.

A tall man opened the door. American. The far continent counterpart of the last 'friend' he'd entertained.

The American smiled, a rather predatory baring of the teeth, and stepped back, gesturing Shuuichi into the room. Shuuichi sought his own smile, but feared it wasn't very successful. Somehow, no matter how many times he did this, he still felt like a virgin being led to the sacrificial altar.

He inched past the man, trying to take in the huge room, momentarily mesmerized by the magnificent view of Tokyo at night that filled the wall of windows. If only . . . if only he could be here legitimately, either as a tenant or as a valued visitor.

The view fractured; he blinked his eyes clear, and set his jaw. He _was _here legitimately, dammit. He was here to seal a contract, to get US distribution for the CDs sitting in a warehouse somewhere.

At the soft scuffing of feet behind him, he turned to face the tall American... And realized they weren't alone. There were three others. Two men and a woman. All with that same hungry, measuring look.

"W–wait a minute," he whispered. "Sakano said nothing about—"

The American came up close behind him, cutting off his protest. Thick fingers pulled his hoody off, exposing him in all his barely-legal stage-costumed glory. This man liked, so Sakano had explained as he'd exited Shuuichi's dressing room, the scent of stage sweat.

"What Sakano doesn't know won't hurt him, ne?" Broken, barely understandable Japanese.

"No." Shuuichi slid away and out of the tall man's increasingly possessive hold. "I didn't agree to this. _Won't—"_

"Oh, don't be difficult, sweetie."

That was the woman, and he turned to her, ready to plead, hoping for something remotely like understanding. Hope died a quick death as she just laughed. Male fingers ran down his arms from behind him, grabbed his wrists and before he realized what was happening, had secured them with something about which he knew only one thing: the only way it was coming off was if they took it off.

✴✴✴

There was one basic problem with Eiri's plan to follow Shindou: cars had to be parked. Even valet parking gave a taxi's occupant more than enough time to escape up an elevator.

Damn.

Eiri asked around, but no one had noticed one more kid in an oversized hoodie. He settled into a chair, prepared to wait all night if necessary, prepared to haul that kid to Touma, emotional scars and all, along with a warrant for Sakano's arrest, if he'd started pimping the kid when he was still underage.

Unfortunately, Sakano was too bright for that. Never mind the kid looked much younger than he was, never mind he radiated innocence, Sakano was too smart to get caught in such an obvious mistake.

He'd have made certain it was legal in whatever city the sex was taking place.

Damned fucked up legal system.

"It was _too_ him! I saw that pink jade ring he always wears!" It was a girl's voice, shrill and indignant, for all her attempts to keep it a whisper. "I bet he's staying in this very hotel!"

"Don't be silly. Shu-u-u-u-uuichi _lives_ in Tokyo. Why would he be staying in a hotel?"

"Because he's a star, you pea-brain. That was the penthouse elevator. He probably lives _here_."

Well, that was enlightening.

✴

Two bribes and five autographs later, he was standing outside suite 2010.

A scream from within, soundproofing having no chance against trained lungs, indicated the girls had guessed correctly. Except for the living part. Vanity label singers—at least those with Shindou Shuuichi's talent—didn't _live_ in penthouses.

Another scream. Eiri shoved his bloody anger into a cold spot inside, and knocked on the door. Moments later, a woman in a hastily-belted robe threw the door open.

"It's about—" Startlement replaced the frowning anger, and the woman's stance subtly shifted. "Who the hell are you? Where's the champagne we ordered?"

"No idea."

"Fuck off."

Fortunately, his foot in the door prevented the woman from slamming it in his face. Unfortunately (at least for the woman in the robe) the door scuffed the polish on his Italian shoes.

Bloody anger momentarily escaped the cold spot and the female's no longer perfect face made a rather nasty-looking stain on the pale carpet.

Another scream shrilled from the bedroom to his right. Eiri reined his anger back again and stepped calmly over the sprawled female body. He might (and that was a large might) have felt some remorse if he hadn't known (thanks to autograph number three) that she was the most dangerous person in the room.

Sneaky, sneaky, hiring a beautiful woman as a bodyguard. Leave it to the Americans.

He walked over to the bedroom door and pushed it open.

"Marci, where's that—" English. American English. "Fuck!" And a scrambling for robes. "Who the fuck are you?"

Eiri caught only a glimpse of bare flesh before a sheet snapped between him and the small figure tied spread-eagled on the bed.

"The taxman," Eiri replied calmly, in perfect English. "We've had a report of inappropriate tax deductions on the part of a certain—"

"Like hell. Who—"

One of the minions' eyes widened, and he leaned toward the American to whisper something in his ear.

"Fuck. You're Seguchi's brother-in-law?"

Eiri just smiled, forcing himself to ignore the whimpers rising from under that sheet.

For the moment.

"Well, you can leave right now. Nothing going on here but a bit of fun among consenting adults."

"Consenting?" Eiri allowed himself a slight frown. "Really?" He moved over to the bed, warned the three men off with his patented death glare, and lifted the sheet gently away from a bruised and tear-stained face. "Consensual, huh?" The eyes were clouded. Glittering crystals on his face and chest, the small application tool lying, still radiating glue-melting heat, on the bedside table, indicated the source of the screams. "Ingenious," Eiri said dryly, and held his hand out. "Key. Now."

"Hell if! He's bought and paid for—"

"Sorry, dupe. He wasn't Sakano's to sell. Now..." He tapped fingertips to palm. "Key."

Another growling objection. "Take him away, and the deal's over. Bad Luck will _never_ see US distribution!"

He sighed. "Just hand it over. You really do _not_ want me to come after it."

There was very little awareness in Shindou's clouded eyes, and when he released the bloodied wrists from the cuffs, the kid curled onto his side, clasping his arms to his bare chest, whimpering mindlessly at what had to be fairly extensive pain.

The crystals were backed with glue, glue designed to melt and bond to fabric. Permanently.

But it wasn't just pain clouding those eyes.

"What did you give him?" He asked, pulling the bare body up to wrap the sheet around him, and when the asshole, would-be-rapist just stood there, he eased the boy back down and turned to face the man, letting his mask drop completely.

The American stumbled backward, eyes widening. "He signed an agreement, damn it. Sakano has a copy—"

"You know, I really don't give a fuck._ Now what did he take?"_

"D–didn't take."

Eiri looked down to see those cloudy eyes desperately seeking sanity.

"F–forced..."

"Drugs, Shu-kun?" The gentleness in his voice startled even him.

A tear-filled dip of a trembling chin.

Without looking at the American, he held out his hand again, palm up. A small pill box arrived dead center. He closed his fist around it, controlling the urge to put the fist through the man's face and marry his nose to the back of his skull.

"Get him something to wear." He shot a hard look at the rich businessman. "And not those skimpy rags he wore here. Something _warm._ Something _modest,_ you disgusting pervert."

"There's nothing—"

"_This is a fucking penthouse suite._ They'll bring you anything—for a price. A sweatsuit. Men's. Size: midget! You order it, and you pay for it, and you get it up here _now!_ Manage some discretion and your names and mug shots won't even find their way to the morning papers."

He watched as the bastard rang the front desk. Small hands clutched at him and he looked down into those purple eyes. "What is it, Shindou?"

"S–sick." And the small, lean body was indeed beginning to convulse.

Eiri swept the kid up, sheet and all, and got him to the bathroom in time to heave up his guts. The bout left Shindou trembling, but steadier on his feet.

"Sh–shower?" he whispered, and Eiri eyed him warily.

"Think you can manage without drowning?"

A tiny nod, but: "D–don't leave?"

"I won't."

Shindou's big eyes squeezed shut, and a hand escaped the sheet to clutch his sleeve. "A–arigatou."

He brushed the sweaty hair back. "Hang in there, kid. Going to check on clothes, okay?"

Another nod, and by the time he closed the door behind him, the shower was going.

The sweatsuit arrived along with a doctor for the female bodyguard. Leaving the doctor in the main room, Yuki shut the American in the bedroom with him and got the specifics of the drug involved, a white powder, then agreed not to kill the bastard as long as he agreed to keep his mouth shut and get the hell out of the country.

He even agreed (very reluctantly) the sapphire and ruby chips glued to Shindou's face were his to keep.

So generous. Yuki had to wonder how many other desperate young performers these men had disfigured for life with their sick little fetishes.

Oh, well, not his problem.

On the other hand, didn't hurt to suggest that Touma's connections might well keep them in line from here on out. Predictably, Touma's connections proved useful in other ways as well. The American was ever so cooperative, once Eiri made it clear that Bad Luck was now officially an NG property, one they'd damnwell carry or lose all distribution rights for the rest of NG's lucrative titles.

He made a mental note to inform Touma of Bad Luck's small change of status, as he went to retrieve the kid from the shower.

"Walk or carry?" he asked, when the kid stood wavering in front of him, clothed in thirty-thousand yen worth of soft blue with hot pink trim, designer jogging suit.

Ladies. Size medium. Courtesy of the lobby boutique. At least the kid didn't seem to care.

Quivering lips pressed determinedly together. "Walk."

He smiled, knowing just how hard that was going to be. "Brave lad," he murmured and turning that face up to him, Eiri had to admit, those damned jewels lining his cheekbones and in a starburst pattern on his forehead were sexy as hell. Without thinking, he leaned over and pressed his lips hard against Shindou's. A startled gasp, and suddenly, the kid was kissing him back, his feet steadier by the microsecond.

He broke off the kiss and smiled down into the wide eyes. "Ah, the wonders of adrenaline," he said, and Shindou gave another startled gasp, this time riddled with breathy laughter.

"Ready?" Eiri asked, and Shindou nodded.

Thanks in no small part to that kiss, the kid actually managed to get past his tormentors and as far as the elevator before his knees gave out. Eiri caught him up and carried him the rest of the way to the car. By the time he settled the undersized body into the passenger seat and slid behind the wheel, the kid was snoring softly.

**TBC**

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**Reviews:** Hey, all, thanks for your patience with the repost. The numbers make a lot more sense now. The hit number on the first chapter had gotten, like, ten times as high as the second, which indicated to me people were having the same trouble accessing chapter two as I was. Everything seems good now, except for the lost reviews. Sigh

**Re: Eiri:** Hope this chapter clears up some of his motives in going to the concert, however, it doesn't seem to me that his attendance at the concert in either the anime or the manga was particularly well thought out (on Eiri's part), but rather (as mentioned here) the result of curiosity roused by Shu's invitation and its subsequent withdrawal, which this Shu did during the park meeting. The dynamic between Shu and Yuki is going to be different here, primarily because Shu and his situation are so different. Bad Luck is ready to go big time, and Shu isn't a happy-go-lucky kid pursuing Eiri, but rather a (at first meeting) confident singer on the rise and (at second meeting) a very scared, very confused, very vulnerable young man. Eiri is definitely in the driver's seat of the relationship here, without the need for a lot of introspection—at least early on. Shu will, ultimately, have him reconsidering his whole life. That being, of course, Shu's purpose in life. :D

I also think it's fun having Eiri at least peripherally involved in NG. Eiri, like most writers, has an opinion on everything and he doesn't strike me as the sort that would keep his opinion of Touma's decisions to himself.

**Touma:** So far we're dealing with Touma the businessman. Eiri's crack about him castrating Suguru to keep his voice high is, of course, meant to be ironic, but also indicative of Eiri's opinion of him as a ruthless CEO of a major production company who is more concerned with the quality and marketability of output than the individuals involved in creating that output. Also, in the manga and anime we are, from the start, dealing with Touma in protective mode, i.e. dealing with an individual (Shu) forcing himself into Eiri's life. Here...Eiri is the one who is pursuing the relationship, so, at the moment, Touma is just curious. What he'll do when Eiri gets serious about Shu, we have yet to find out (me included!)

**Catmum56:** Heh heh...neither did I (take a lit class). Math and Physics major here. I sat in on a lit class once...and was utterly appalled at the gross conclusions they were drawing about the intentions and motives of the author, conclusions not based on any analysis left by the writer but on the teacher's own assumptions about the author's psychology and (spooky music) _sociological symbolism._ Sometimes...a whirlpool is just a whirlpool. :D:D:D I'll never argue the notion that art has a symbiotic relationship to the culture that produced the artist, but I think deconstructionists carry it _way_ too far.

You're all great. Thanks so much for the feedback. **Next up: **Ummm...haven't titled it yet. Let's call it... "Monkeyface." Shu wakes up in a strange bed and to the taste of strawberries, whipped cream...and tobacco. ;-)


	5. Guilt

**Disclaimer**: _Gravitation _and its characters are the property of Maki Murakami. I make no profit from this other than pleasure.

**This is an AU, **chapter one caveats still apply. :D

**Warnings:** Non-consensual sex, language, yaoi relationships...the usual in an adult Gravi fanfic. I'm thinking, after the first reviews, I need to add: Gritty reality. This is meant to be disturbing and hopefully thought-provoking. It's serious subject matter. That's why it's rated M.

**A/N**: You asked for it, you got it! Never let it be said reviews don't make a difference. This chapter didn't exist two days ago...and I thought the story was finished but for the polish. I admit...I hadn't really thought about _how_ Eiri convinced Touma until y'all mentioned it, then the boys wouldn't let me sleep till I wrote it out. I kinda like the way it turned out—in fact, it's one of my favorite chapters!

✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴  
Chapter Five: Guilt  
✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴

Noon. And still no Shuuichi.

Hiro exchanged a worried glance with Suguru. Their youngest member, buried behind his portable synthesizer and earphones, had on his implacable game face, but he was worried too, Hiro could tell. And well they should be. This was the day their single was set to hit the stands and airwaves. This was the day when all their hard work paid off and the real work began.

And Shuuichi was beyond late.

And Sakano, who was supposed to be briefing them on the next stage of their careers . . . had been ordered to Seguchi-san's office.

Hiro pulled out his cellphone and, for the hundredth time that morning, quick dialed his best friend, only to get the instant transfer to voice mail he'd gotten every other time he'd tried to call.

What the hell was going on? Shu had been distracting him last night, he'd finally realized. Had gotten into that cab without ever saying where he was going. What was really going on between him and Yuki Eiri? Had he been going to meet the author? That would be an odd coupling, wouldn't it? His barely literate, homework-copying best friend with Japan's newest literary genius.

And he had to wonder. . . had Shu finally come out of the closet . . . even to himself? Hiro had known which way his friend swung since they hit puberty, but Shuuichi had always seemed blissfully oblivious. He'd always been on the search for the "perfect girl" to bless with his virginity. Was Yuki-san Shu's . . . perfect girl?

Hiro stifled a chuckle. Yuki-san had not looked like anyone's _girl_ last night, but he was, without question one hell of a good-looking guy. And as exotic in his own way as Shu, with his golden hair and eyes. They'd make . . . an interesting set.

Not that he'd ever heard Yuki-san's name coupled with another guy. He was a notorious womanizer. Didn't mean he couldn't be tempted, and Shu could be . . . Hiro smiled gently into his coffee-mug . . . very tempting. Not to him, he knew Shu too well, loved him too much to ever be attracted _that_ way. They were best friends, something far more precious than lovers.

The door to the conference room opened quietly and their manager slipped in.

Behind the synth, Suguru looked up expectantly, slipping the earphones down around his neck.

"Shuuichi?" Sakano asked, and Hiro shook his head. Sakano cursed softly, then: "Well, there's nothing to be done about it. Stow your instruments in the locker and meet me out front. Shacho-san's orders."

"Seguchi-san . . . ?" Hiro exchanged another look with Suguru, the CEO's cousin . . . who knew Seguchi Touma better than any of them. And some of his stories were enough to make Hiro's blood run cold. Suguru's face flickered with emotion, then settled back to the game face. He gave a little shrug and began putting his synth away.

Sakano disappeared again out the door.

Hiro, without another word, tucked his guitar into its case, helped Suguru stow the cords (after all this time, the little guy finally trusted him to do that much right) and they went together to secure their instruments, then made a silent trek to the front of the building where they found not just Sakano-san, but Seguchi-san as well.

The cousins exchanged a greeting equally chilly on both sides and Seguchi, whom Hiro had only actually talked to once before, greeted Hiro by name before waving them all toward the waiting limo. Seguchi and Sakano took the backmost seats, he and Suguru settled on the forward, backward-facing bench seat.

"There are drinks in the compartment beside you," Seguchi said smoothly. "Please, help yourselves."

Seguchi's game face was, if anything, better even than Suguru's, but Hiro could tell, thanks to his months with Su-kun, that the CEO was anything but pleased at the absence of their singularly distinctive front man. And yet, he said not a word about Shuuichi, for all he kept up a practiced small talk as the limo pulled out. He was displeased, but he wasn't surprised. Obviously, Sakano had already warned him.

So . . . where the hell were they headed? And why was the CEO with them? He'd patently ignored Bad Luck for the better part of a year since they signed the contracts with the vanity label, so . . . why . . .

On the far side of the limo, Seguchi was speaking in a low voice to Sakano and reaching into the soft-sided briefcase, he pulled out a CD and handed it to Sakano . . . whose face mirrored disappointment.

It was, Hiro knew from the bright label Shu had proudly designed, their demo CD. Obviously, the CEO had listened to it at last . . . and found it wanting.

Hiro heard a little caught breath next to him, glanced at Suguru and found the kid staring down at his lap . . . where those talented hands were clenched into angry little fists. Hiro dug into the cooler-compartment and pulled out the water Su-kun always preferred and using that as a pretext, set his hand on one of those fists, got Suguru's attention, conveying, in every way he knew how, that the CEO's opinion didn't matter. They _would _make it.

Damned if they wouldn't.

But . . . where in hell were they headed?

He'd never been one for small talk and finally, he could stand it no longer. "Please, sir," he said into an uneasy silence, "where are we going?"

A tiny smile twitched Seguchi's face. "Finally got up the nerve, Nakano-san?"

He blushed, and the smile widened a degree.

"It's no secret. I've a friend who heard you last night. He wanted to meet you." The smile turned to a frown. "_All _of you. He will be . . . disappointed, I fear."

"I'm sure there's a good reason—"

"Don't bother making excuses for him, Nakano-san. I've seen his type before. All too often, in this business. You will forgive me, I'm certain, for speaking frankly. Dedication is everything. Shindou-san is obviously lacking in that essential quality."

"There's no one _more _dedicated—"

"Forgive me again, Nakano-san. The front desk notes every arrival and departure. I know the times your band has been scheduled for studio time and what time he has arrived. I know dedication . . . and I know feckless. NG does not tolerate feckless."

Hiro pressed his lips together and bowed his head politely before turning back to the shaded windows. There was no point in arguing. Shu had his reasons. Those damned late night business dinners after every damned concert. Of course he'd sleep late after, and then he'd try to get his voice warmed up before coming in. Of course, the late dinners didn't interrupt Sakano's schedule, but he wouldn't attend them right after an exhausting concert.

Yes, dammit, there _were _reasons for Shu's tardiness. Reasons that wouldn't exist if they were with the main label. Unfortunately, he doubted the CEO would ever quite see it that way.

They'd entered a very exclusive residential neighborhood, the kind of neighborhood populated by very rich people. A tiny hope flared. Were they . . . finally . . . going to get a _real_ patron? Someone who could make those late night dinners unnecessary? He stole a glance at Sakano, but his manager just looked . . . worried . . . and hope quickly faded.

The limo pulled up to one of the more modest dwellings . . . which was still larger than any house Hiro had ever been in . . . and the driver came around to open and hold the door. Seguchi-san slipped out first, liquid and graceful in all his movements, Sakano stumbled out in his wake and Hiro, with a final, reassuring squeeze of Suguru's hand, ducked out, Suguru right behind him.

They walked up to the front door and Sakano, at Seguchi's expectant look, pushed the doorbell button. The door opened immediately . . . on the striking blond Hiro had seen coming out of Shu's dressing room last night.

Wave upon wave of emotions, bright and dark, chased through him. What the hell was going on?

"I told you to knock, dammit," Yuki-san hissed, by way of greeting, and his golden eyes glittered with anger as he scanned all of them. "Where's Shindou?"

"Late, Eiri," Seguchi-san said, meeting that anger calmly. "I told you. He's a problem."

Yuki-san grunted, then jerked his head toward the building's interior and turning his back on them, headed in. Seguchi, with that slight smile followed him, but as Sakano moved toward the door, Yuki-san's voice barked:

"Seguchi, tell that simpering pimp that if he puts one foot inside my house, he'll be carried out in a body bag."

Sakano froze. His face went blank, then hard, so hard Hiro didn't recognize him. But:

"I'll wait in the limo," Sakano said quietly, and with a bow to Seguchi, "forgive me, Shacho-san."

Hiro stood uncertainly as his manager slipped by him and back to the car. Suguru, unfazed, followed his cousin into the house.

"Nakano?" That rich baritone voice was back, no warmer than before. "In or out, make up your mind."

Hiro stood his ground and met those golden eyes squarely. "Why'd you call him a pimp?"

The eyes narrowed. "You don't know?"

Something in Yuki-san's voice...His heart began to race, then stopped. Suddenly, he feared he did know. "Those . . . dinners Shu talked about. They . . . weren't dinners were they?"

Yuki-san scanned him with those narrow eyes, and the hard expression softened, ever-so-slightly.

"Get in here," he said, with a jerk of his blond head.

The door clicked shut behind him.

✴✴✴

How could he not have known? From the concert intros, it was obvious these two were best friends from childhood. They took pride in it. Yet . . . Nakano hadn't known. He'd swear the shock and hurt in his eyes was real.

Dinners. Gods. Had he _ever_ been that naïve?

Seguchi, as usual, had arrived bearing gifts. This time, damned if he'd object, it was fresh strawberries and shortcake. He didn't know how the man managed it . . . he'd only called and asked Seguchi to bring Bad Luck here two hours ago. Likely the CEO just sent some poor overworked stooge out to pick the groceries up.

Not his problem. And he loved strawberry shortcake. He snagged a particularly plump berry from the bag Seguchi held and jerked his head toward the kitchen—Seguchi knew where to put everything—and when Touma was out of the way, turned to the two kids standing nervously in the entryway.

"Sit," he said around the strawberry, this time nodding toward the living room. He kept his voice low: Shindou was still asleep, and while the door to the bedroom was closed, he didn't want the kid coming out. Not yet.

Nakano and Suguru settled close to one another on the L-shaped couch. Eiri sat on the other leg, leaving the chair for Seguchi . . . assuming, of course, Seguchi would actually _sit. _The power of superior height was a favored position for him and one he could only achieve when everyone else in the room was seated.

Nakano's head was bent, he was explaining something to his younger bandmate, who, rather than looking shocked simply nodded his head. The kid, at least, had suspected. Not surprising. He was, after all, related to Seguchi.

The low-voiced conference came to an abrupt halt as Seguchi came into the living room—complete with opened beer for Eiri, water for himself . . . and nothing for the two boys. Eiri, with a snort, accepted it and leaned back into the cushions, his legs crossed comfortably.

Seguchi, predictably, remained standing. "Well, Eiri?"

"Did you know?" he asked flatly, and without explanation. Touma shrugged.

"Say, rather, I suspected. Not my problem. Bad Luck paid its bills. That's all that mattered."

"It is now."

Seguchi's brow tightened. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's your problem now. I mean, NG has assumed Bad Luck's contract."

Touma dropped into the chair, his face blank, and Eiri laughed silently. He'd gotten the slick bastard.

The kids on the couch just stared.

"The hell," Touma said at last. "What the fuck did you do, Eiri?"

"I followed that kid last night, after the concert. Followed him to a fucking penthouse suite where he was being drugged and raped. Unless you want it all over the gossip rags, damned right you'll pick them up and silence the whole mess."

Nakano went white and swayed where he sat. Suguru, after a moment's startlement, put an arm around the guitarist's shoulders and held him up.

Seguchi remained unmoved. "So? And this involves NG _how?"_

"F–forgive me, Seguchi-san," Nakano's voice broke in. "N–not now. Please, Yuki-san, is—is Shuuichi all right? Do you . . . know wh–where he is?"

Eiri took a deep breath, put his fury at his brother-in-law on a back burner and stood up. "He's here. Asleep. He seems to be all right." He headed for the hallway and the master bedroom, not the least surprised when Seguchi remained behind.

Even Seguchi Touma had his limits where it concerned the reality behind his cutthroat philosophy.

In the darkened bedroom, Shindou made a very small lump in the large bed. He was curled on his side, as he had been all night. And as it had been last night, it remained a troubled sleep, shuddering breaths interspersed with tiny whimpers. The sparkling chips on his forehead caught the light from the hallway.

"Oh, Shu . . ." Nakano whispered and turned away, looking near tears.

"I'd advise against waking him up," Yuki said, indifferent to whether they followed his advice or not. Now. "They gave him ketamine. It metabolizes pretty fast. Probably gone by now, but he can use the real sleep."

Nakano nodded. "I–I just want to sit with him."

"Hiro?" Suguru whispered, looking, for once, his age. Awkward and scared.

Nakano shook his head and pressed the younger boy's arm. "Probably better if it's just me when he wakes up."

Suguru nodded and Nakano walked softly to the chair beside the bed and sat gingerly on the edge, elbows on his knees, hands hanging limply between, his eyes all for his friend. Not hard to guess the thoughts racing behind those grey eyes. And every one of them riddled with guilt.

Eiri shook his head and shut the door on them.

Idiots. The lot of them. With the possible exception of Seguchi's canny little cousin. And the biggest idiot of them all was seated in his living room. He headed back there, Seguchi's canny little cousin in tow.

✴✴✴

_Oh, Shu,_ Hiro thought, staring at his troubled friend. _Why didn't you say something?_ Shu, for whom love and music were what life was all about. Shu, who had been saving himself for that perfect someone.

A rose-tinted dream he hadn't, Hiro suddenly realized, mentioned for months now.

How could he have missed it? Dinners. And he'd just assumed Sakano was part of those dinners, had assumed his idiot friend had charmed all those "dinner guests" as he charmed everyone who met him.

Damp dribbled down his cheeks and off his chin. Tears. His fault. It was all his fault. He should have seen the change, the growing sobriety, the intense concentration on the music.

The signature giggles and writer's block tantrums had all but disappeared. But they were all working so hard, he just hadn't thought, had assumed . . .

Too much. He'd assumed way too much.

He buried his face in his hands, and wept.

✴✴✴

"Explain," Touma said, coldly. Brutally ignoring his young cousin's presence.

Well, if Seguchi wasn't worried about the boy hearing, damned if he'd care.

Eiri took a good swig of beer, and let Touma have it, both barrels. "Simple. His trick was the American distributors for NG. They threatened not to carry Bad Luck's CD. I told them you'd pull the rest of NG's titles, that Bad Luck was under the NG label now and any contract they had with Sakano was null and void."

"You had no right—"

"Dammit, Seguchi," he let his anger flare, even as he kept his voice down. "You know fucking well my opinion of that fucking vanity label, and the things these fools do for a dream. Do or do not. _Make_ a fucking choice and take a real risk. _These _kids are good as you fucking well know—"

"Screw you, Eiri. I listened to that demo. It was—"

"I know exactly what it was and _why_ it was, and so do you. I also saw these kids on stage and I know damn good and well why you're holding them down."

Touma drew back, suspicion flaring his nostrils. Eiri smiled tightly.

"Everything _he _had at that age . . . and more."

Touma hissed. "Hardly. _He_ was and is sheer magic onstage."

"And Shindou's not? Try again, _Touma-sama."_

Touma-sama. The name by which every Nittle Grasper fan had known him. Shindou wasn't the only reminder of Touma's former band.

"Are you suggesting—"

Eiri caught Suguru's narrowed gaze, knew the kid was following every innuendo. "I'm suggesting, Seguchi, that you're _scared_ of these kids. You're afraid they're going to blast the Nittle Grasper legend to hell and gone and you're determined to stop it...in whatever way you can."

"Fuck you, Eiri."

"In your dreams. I'm calling your bluff, Seguchi. These kids _will_ get their chance...if I have to back them myself."

"You wouldn't—"

"The hell I wouldn't. But I won't have to. I'll go to your competitors, and you can bet they'll listen to me and give these kids a listen, and if they do, they'll pick them up."

"Dammit, Eiri, you're thinking with your cock."

"And you're stretching, Touma. Care to lay a bet? Do you really want to take the chance that I'm wrong? Do you _want _Ryuichi's successor associated with a rival label?"

Touma scowled and Eiri chuckled.

"I didn't think so."

**TBC**

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**A/N:** The new "login to review" system at Gurabiteshiyon is certainly affecting reviews. Thanks to all of you who take the time to login and leave a word—I know it's a hassle—and Shu hugs to all the rest.

I'm sitting here watching the M's game, so thought I'd put in some direct responses to reviews:

**Tsu:** Yipes! I never thought about how that comment c/b taken! Whoopsie. No...I don't do death or even dismemberment fics. I adore the sheer life these two exude. Thanks in part to your review, there's a bit more Touma/Eiri in this one...hope you approve. There'll be more, for certain, in the sequel.

**A-E:** I really don't know about deleting the original post. Most of the reviews on the first two chaps are still available now ffnet is sorted out again, and I don't know about deleting those. Suggestions anyone? Yeah, the woman was the most dangerous and Eiri lays her out cold. Go YUKI! One of my favorite moments in the anime is when Eiri confronts Taki and turns his "dangerous Yuki" eyes on him. :D

**RIR13: **I love fluff where Shu is just charmingly soft and sweet, but even the canon Shu has a lot of backbone. Sometimes at the oddest moments, but, hey, he's Shu! Odd is his middle name:D

**Kibou32**: Not to worry. I love to hear from you when you have time.

**Supershu:** Heh heh, I have to admit, there are some (IMO) really sweet Yuki/Shu moments coming up. And yeah, this story is only ten chaps long and leaves a lot unresolved, as it concentrates on Yuki and Shu. So...reviews are helping the next section take shape. I think the only way to really explain canon Eiri's behavior early on is a reluctant fascination with Shu, once he sees him on stage. Especially in the anime but in the manga as well, that marks a distinct change in his behavior.

**MoMo-chan: **Heh heh...I've had lots of practice. :D Nothing replaces writing several million words.

**Ghanima: **Hope you like this chap...Yours was one of the reviews that gigged me into writing it!

**Scorch66: **the strawberry shortcake has been delayed a chap, but that chap s/b up this weekend.

**Alaine: **Eiri isn't so much pursuing Shu at this point as responding to a situation he seriously abhors (as I hope is made clear in this chap.) He's interested, intrigued, as he is in the canon, but the situation here shoves him into the drivers seat with the relationship (as you'll see next chap). As for punching Sakano...he massively insults him here, almost better than a punch in Japan. :D

**Moon:** I'm not really sure how Touma will develop as the story goes on. Even in the canon Touma, tho, I see a certain calculation in every move he makes. He . . . chooses his times with Eiri very carefully and he certainly rather cold-bloodedly manipulates Shu and Taki. I do like the hard businessman side as a contrast to all the complete artists. There's a bit more of the "Eiri calls the winners" in this chap, but I'll keep it in mind for the sequel. I see it mostly as a casual reality between them. I see them as doing a fair amount of talking business, both Eiri's and Touma's. I mean, these two have known each other for at least the better part of ten years. They have to have done a fair amount of "bull-shooting" over dinners and drinks.

**As for Eiri's attraction to Shu.**..I find it kind of creepy that all he would see in him is a whiny kid, as some fics seem to imply. I really don't see Eiri as a pedophile, so what arouses his interest has to be something more solid. I don't think it's an accident that the manga Shu onstage in that first concert has a lot of the same _adult _sex-appeal as Ryu. That one panel as he breaks into _No Style_'s a hell of an image.

**Bubble: **All I can say is...wait two chapters! ;-)

**Moon **(again): One of my favorite bits in the anime is the way (at the meeting in the park) Eiri's face is first very shadowed, and then, _viola!_ Shu (and we) get our first real look at Mr Hunkacious. If I caught some of that here, I'm delighted.

**Re: subject matter..**.er, um, it's not all that unusual for me. My original characters constantly want to go work for someone else. I'm...uh...not very nice to them. In actual fact, one of the things I enjoy about writing the Gravi fanfic is that I've learned to lighten up a bit. Cotton Candy Snow was really different for me. :D My characters will probably want to take Yuki and Shu out to a steak dinner in thanks, if that tone begins to reflect into the original stuff. :D

I feel the same about Shu. Especially...consider, in canon he allowed himself to be raped to protect Eiri's reputation. And then, he tries hard to make light of the whole thing, even as it threatens to end his career. When it comes to protecting his loves (Eiri and Music) I think he'd do about anything.

**Catmum56: **One thing I love about Yuki is his ability to exude "I'm dangerous". The type of individuals who would use money and position to manipulate young artists aren't the sort who would stand up to a man like him. Cowards at heart...like Taki. Only the bodyguard gal who meets him at the door might, and Yuki takes care of her in short order. Re: Literature classes: I'm not a big fan of non-writers making assumptions about what makes writers tick.

One of the best commentaries I've ever read on Lit classes is a short story by Isaac Asimov (I think the title is "The Bard") It's just a conversation between a Lit teacher and a physicist in a bar. It's from the Lit teacher's POV and the physicist is talking (drunkenly) about having invented a time machine and bringing Wm. Shakespeare into the present. Seems Willy was all excited that he'd become such a Big Deal. He took a class on Shakespeare at the college (from the Lit teacher). The Lit teacher obviously becomes very excited and wants to meet him. But he can't. The physicist had to send him back because he got all upset. Why? Because the Lit teacher flunked him.

**Ray**: Oh...the jewels. We aren't through with them, I promise!

Til next time! —Vin


	6. Monkeyface

**Disclaimer**: _Gravitation _and its characters are the property of Maki Murakami. I make no profit from this other than pleasure.

**This is an AU, **chapter one caveats still apply. :D

**Warnings:** The fastest twenty minutes-to-pizza in the history of lit-ra-chur!

**A/N: **I'm really sorry this wasn't up last weekend as promised. I just couldn't get a couple of points to read the way I wanted after the addition of the last chapter. I think it's okay now. Sometimes it just needs to sit a while.

✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴  
Chapter Six: Monkey-face  
by Vindaloo  
✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴

Sunlight glinted off a familiar fall of shining, mahogany-colored hair.

"Hiro?"

Kami-sama, what was wrong with his voice? And... where the hell was he? And why was Hiro curled in that over-stuffed chair? A chair he'd never seen before?

Shuuichi tried his voice a second time. "H–hiro?"

Storm-grey eyes fluttered open, squeezed tight as a large yawning mouth appeared beneath them. Long, spidery fingers raked through that beautiful mop of hair, sweeping it back, giving it a twist that Shuuichi knew would hold it behind the narrow shoulders at least until the next jaw-cracking yawn. Another blink, and a sleepy smile.

"Mornin', monkey-face."

The familiar nickname, the accompanying warm tone was just... too much.

He burst into tears.

"Shuuichi!" The bed bounced and skinny arms pulled him into the embrace that meant more to him than any embrace in the whole world. "Hey, monkey, it's okay. You're safe now." More words happened, words of reassurance that barely penetrated his ears. All he cared about was the fact that his best friend was still speaking to him, that his best friend's arms surrounded him, and that his best friend was rocking him gently, easing the pain, chasing away the fear, as Hiro always had.

"I'm sorry, Hiro," he whispered through his own sobs. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I blew it. I'm so stupid. So damned incompetent. We were so close. And it was all for nothing. No distribution. It's all over—"

"Shu." Hiro took his arms and pushed him back. "Shu, shut up and listen to me."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm—"

"Sorry. I know. But there's nothing for you to be sorry about." Hiro's improbably strong, guitarist's fingers gripped Shuuichi's face, holding him steady. "Look at me, Shu."

He tried, blinking his lashes free of the tears, and Hiro's thumb swept across his cheek, taking the dampness with it.

"Yuki-san has explained everything. You've got nothing to be sorry _for._ I just wish you'd told me a long time ago."

"You'd have stopped me."

"Damned right I would."

"And used your college fund."

"Damned right I would."

"I couldn't let you do that."

"Damned right you..." Hiro paused. Blinked. And pulled Shuuichi back into his arms. "Fuck."

For a time, Shuuichi just let himself be held. He'd never felt so...drained, so...unworkable. None of his muscles functioned the way they were supposed to and it was just easier to let Hiro do all the work and hold him upright. His brain was even less cooperative. Everything before he fell asleep was a blur. All he really remembered was going to the hotel, the penthouse suite...and a general sense of panic. Of horror and utter humiliation...

Sudden comprehension gave him the energy to ask: "Y–you said... Yuki-san ex–explained. S–seguchi-san's brother in law? Wh–what did he tell you? How... how did he know..."

A pause, then, "Shu, don't you remember?"

"Not really. It's... all fuzzy."

"Yuki-san... he saved you from those pervs. He didn't like how you were acting in your dressing room and followed your cab. He had to convince the hotel staff to let him into the room and by the time he got there, well, you were pretty messed up."

He buried his face in Hiro's neck, unable to look his friend in the eye. "They... gave me something, Hiro. Powder they dissolved in champagne. I tried not to, but they made me swallow it. I don't remember much after that, except..."

Suddenly, he flashed on the room, the bed, on some small weapon aimed right at his face. His eyes. Pain. Screaming. Hands holding him, clamping his face, forcing him to endure...

"Shu!" Hands holding him, shaking him. "Shuuichi, snap out of it!"

"What's going on?" A voice he should know, but didn't, demanded.

"He woke up. He seemed all right. We were talking, then... he just started screaming."

"Oh, for the love of—" A third voice, deep and rich, and with it, another hand entered his reality, sharply, shockingly.

Painfully.

"Dammit, Yuki-san!"

"Shutup, Nakano." A voice, cool and distant, but a voice that resonated somewhere deep inside him. Resonated and registered... safety. Again, that extra hand impacted Shuuichi's face, rocking his head back. "And you, you pint-sized idiot, get yourself under control. Do you _want_ to ruin that fucking fabulous voice of yours?"

That noise. That horrible screeching sound... that was him. He tried, he truly tried, but it wouldn't stop. He kept thinking of that... _thing_ and the pain and how any minute now, they'd miss and it would come straight for his eyes and he'd be blinded forever and—

"Fuck..."

The screeching ended abruptly, swallowed by a cavern. A cavern, warm and damp, tasting of tobacco and... strawberries.

With whipping cream.

Shuuichi groaned and arched up into that touch that was, somehow, surprisingly, _familiar_, wrapped his arms around the attached neck, deepening the kiss as the other events of that nightmare evening snapped into focus.

And just as it had there in the nightmare's bathroom, Yuki's kiss filled him with a strangely calm strength.

"Well. At least we know how to shut you up, brat." That voice, still cool and distant, murmured against his mouth.

Slowly, reluctantly, he let the author go, only to huddle back down into the bed, too mortified to meet the eyes of any of the people now packing the room. Hiro, Yuki-san, Suguru...a tall, broad-shouldered man with long blond hair, a small, be-spectacled woman, and the owner of that almost-familiar voice: Seguchi Touma, president of NG, who stood against the wall, arms gracefully akimbo, staring down at him.

At him. The pseudo-employee-turned-prostitute who'd been kissing his brother-in-law. The _male_ pseudo-employee.

The soon-to-be-ex-pseudo-employee.

Notably missing...was Sakano.

How much did they know? Why wasn't Sakano here? And what must they think of what Yuki-san had just done? And not just Yuki-san. _He'd _kissed back, had wrapped his arms around the tall author like they were lovers...

What must they...

Oh, kami-sama, what must _Hiro_ think?

He ventured a glance, saw Hiro looking from him to Yuki-san, a strange expression on his face, and ducked his head, wondering if it was possible to die of humiliation, but then Hiro's hand gripped his, bringing a wave of relief. "As certain as I am that Shu will eventually appreciate everyone's concern, he's pretty confused right now. I wonder if you all might leave us alone again?"

Kami-sama, he loved that voice. So calm. So polite. So always full of the right words. He felt the tears start to leak again and tried to hide them in a pillow. Another hand, not Hiro's, brushed through his hair, then settled, light and steadying, on his shoulder.

"Excellent notion, Nakano," Yuki-san's cool voice said, just over his head, and the hand on his shoulder slipped away. "In fact, you rubber-necking idiots, I want you all out of my house. Now."

_His _house? Oh, dear Buddha... "Hiro, where am I?" he whispered, as the sounds of people leaving faded behind the sound of a closing door.

"Where do you think, baka?" Yuki-san's voice answered at his back, and a weight pressed down that side of the mattress.

Shuuichi, who had been certain Yuki had left with the others, swallowed hard and burrowed into Hiro.

"My options were limited at the time," Yuki continued. "Didn't think you'd want the emergency room. The hot glue thing... I'm sure that was pretty painful, but it didn't seem to have done much damage, and they'll fall off... eventually. Probably. That drug they gave you was nothing to worry about. Ketamine... standard date-rape shit, and a mild dose at that. You're a real pansy, aren't you?"

Objections flared, but Hiro spoke up before he could voice them.

"He would be." Hiro's hand squeezed his. "He never takes anything. Doesn't drink much other than water."

"Not to mention he's a fucking midget. Ounce for ounce, I suppose the dosage wasn't that small. Still... Health freak, is he?"

"No. Just careful." Another squeeze. "He knows Suguru and I depend on him."

"Regular social worker. I suppose this newest gig was all for you as well."

"With all due respect and thanks for what you did for him, you should be careful to know your facts before you try to put someone down, Yuki-san," Hiro's wonderful calm permeated the room. "He got himself into this... newest gig, as you put it, so _I_ wouldn't have to sacrifice my college fund. I would have, had I known those dinners he was attending were anything other than fund-raising meals. He knows that. He put himself through hell to protect the future he thinks I put on hold to help him follow his dream. As grateful as I am for what you've done, I can't let you hurt him more than he already has been."

"I don't want to hurt him, I just want him out of my bed!"

_His_ bed. Of course it was. And of course, he wanted it back. That kiss, that kiss that held... everything... of the kisses he'd once dreamed about—that magical kiss had meant nothing to this sophisticated, exquisitely perfect man.

"I—I'm sorry," Shuuichi whispered. "O–of course you do." He pushed back the covers, and realized he had nowhere to go, Hiro on one side, Yuki-san on the other, and neither showing any inclination to move, glaring across at one another as they were.

Avoiding both dagger-filled stares, he began to work his way to the foot of the bed, crawling carefully, swallowing repeatedly as his stomach showed a disturbing tendency to rid itself of the spit that was all it currently had to work on. He rolled off the mattress, and stood there, squeezing his eyes against the pain of swollen feet and returning circulation.

When he thought, maybe, he could manage, he headed slowly for the door. He opened it—onto a huge walk-in closet.

From somewhere, laughter began, for all he didn't feel the least bit amused. Laughter began and wouldn't stop, just like the screams earlier wouldn't quit. Laughter that mixed with tears as he leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to sit curled on the floor, his knees simply refusing to hold him up any longer.

"Well... wasn't that an effective exit?" Yuki-san's dry voice asked, and Hiro's matching response: "Wonder where he thought he was going to go?"

Tears won, driving out the laughter. "I don't know..." Shuuichi said, and it sounded like a whimper even to him, which he hated and tried to control. "I don't..."

"Don't be dumber than usual, Shu," Hiro said, on a gentle laugh. "I just meant you have no shoes. Be a pretty painful walk home."

Shuuichi shook his head, and confessed the truth at last. "I mean, I _don't_ know where I'd go." He looked up, met Hiro's puzzled gaze, knowing the answer before he asked: "When was the last time you were in my apartment?"

The puzzlement grew, and Hiro shrugged. "I dunno... three weeks?"

"Over two months, Hiro." They'd been so busy, working on the CD, they'd been at the studio more often than not and when they did get together socially, it had always been at Hiro's place. "I... moved out more than nine weeks ago. I've been living—well, sleeping—at the studio. My stuff's stowed in a closet there." He swallowed hard. "I've cycled everything, _everything_ back into the album. And now... and now... I won't be able to _give_ them away."

He felt the tears forming again, and had to look away, unable to face Hiro's pity and Yuki-san's derision. He leaned into the wall and hugged his knees to his chest.

"The point is, I _don't_ have anywhere. Sakano-san is certain to stop looking the other way when he finds me on the lounge couch—hell, I probably couldn't even get past security now—I can't move in on you, you've barely enough room for you and Chiro."

"Chiro?" he heard Yuki murmur with a certain over-blown curiosity, and Hiro snorted. "My mascot... don't push it."

Shuuichi wanted to laugh and cry again. He wanted Chiro right now. At the moment, an oversized, stuffed guitar in his arms would come very welcome.

"I...suppose I can get my old job washing dishes back, but even so, first and last month, security deposit..." He sighed again and pushed himself to his feet. "I... I need time. Time that I don't have. But you. Suguru. Kami-sama, Hiro, I've made such a mess of things... Maybe... I'll talk to Seguchi-san. There's no way my mistakes should ruin your chances. Or Suguru's. I mean—"

"Are you ever going to put this idiot friend of yours out of his wallowing self-pity?" Yuki-san asked, cutting through his uncontrollable babbling.

"I dunno." That was Hiro. "I was kind of wondering just how much 'stupid' he could spout before he ran out."

Shuuichi found his babble dying in his throat as he stared from one to the other, wondering what in hell they were talking about. What had happened while he was sleeping?

Yuki stood up and stretched, heading for the... other... door. "I'm going to order pizza. Speak now, or eat what I decide."

Shuuichi blinked. Pizza? A slow glance at the window confirmed it was, indeed, late afternoon. He hadn't eaten for over twenty-four hours. He should be starving, but he answered more out of habit than actual desire. "Uh... P–pepperoni? With jalapenos? Extra cheese?"

A faint smile appeared, but Yuki spoke to Hiro, not him. "Into hot and spicy, is he?"

Hiro grinned up at the tall author. "If you have tabasco in the house, you'll be buying more tomorrow."

A sculpted blond brow lifted. "I'll hide it. Thanks for the warning."

Yuki disappeared out the door, closing it silently behind him.

✴✴✴

Eiri paused just outside the door, pulled out his cell phone and punched the quick-dial to his favorite pizzaria. Leaning his back to the wall, he listened with one ear to the automated ordering system's questions, and with the other, to the conversation taking place in the bedroom, surprisingly curious regarding the precise nature of the relationship between the two 'old friends.'

"Wh–what's he mean, Hiro?" Shuuichi asked, with a creak of springs and a rustle of blankets. Good, at least the idiot had gotten off the cold floor.

"Well, I'd say he's going to hide the tabasco to keep you from drinking it."

_Good counter, Nakano._ Eiri smiled into the safely empty corridor as he punched the keys to order the requested pepperoni and jalapenos. (He'd long since memorized the restaurant's menu.) He was beginning to like this guitarist friend of Shindou's.

"I don't mean that, and you know it."

There was a pause. Eiri could just see those purple eyes steadily meeting storm-grey. And when Nakano answered, his voice was filled with compassion.

"I guess we've left you hanging long enough to set the lesson, monkey-face. Bad Luck's not through. We're going to have to recut the CD, but it'll be with Seguchi-san's advice and NG's full backing. That blond guy? He's our new manager; said to call him K. He's American. The woman was NG's contract lawyer. She brought the new contracts down from the studio for us to sign."

New manager, contracts signed before Touma had time to reconsider: just two of the details he'd . . . discussed . . . with Seguchi while Nakano sat with his friend, oblivious to the negotiations.

A long pause, then a shocked: "Why? _How?"_

Eiri closed the phone softly and slipped it back into his pocket, waiting for Nakano's response.

"Seems we have Yuki-san to thank for that, too. After he told Seguchi-san he was an idiot not to be producing us, Seguchi-san listened to our CD. At the time you were getting all sparkly, he was already talking to Sakano about making the shift."

That was the story they'd given Nakano, and was to be the official one. From his tone, Nakano had fully accepted it. Unfortunately, after his past few months' experience, Shuuichi was a bit more canny than to accept it a face value.

"So it's not because..."

Time, Eiri decided, to take the explanation out of Hiro's under-informed hands.

✴✴✴

"Seguchi Touma doesn't do things out of the goodness of his heart." Yuki-san's resonant voice filled the room. "Pizza in twenty minutes, children. —First of all, he hasn't got one, a heart, that is, and secondly, if he did, he wouldn't waste it on goodness. Or guilt. You're a fucking smart investment, as he'd have realized months ago, if he'd ever bothered to listen to that crap demo of yours."

Shuuichi felt resentment rising. "How do you know it was crap?" It was, but damned if Shuuichi would admit it to this man, no matter he was gorgeous... no matter he'd rescued him from a fate worse than...

Fuck. He set his mouth and lifted his chin.

"You never even heard—"

Yuki bent over and pressed his lips hard against Shuuichi's defiance. To Shuuichi's profound disgust, rather than maintain his dignity, he melted into a puddle of goo.

"Definitely works," Yuki murmured against his lips, then pulled away to sit down on the chair, facing him and Hiro. "I didn't have to hear it to tell you it was over-produced, over-sung, and over-aware in every sense. You tried to pack everything you are into one fucking song, and it came out a mess."

Shuuichi hung his head.

Hiro chuckled. "Right on every count."

"Touma, had he not been too stubborn to give that demo a listen, would have heard that, would have known how to take all those elements and highlight them, one at a time, in the right order and in just the right way to make an album. The one indisputable fact, seeing you on stage, is that Bad Luck is no one trick pony. You have scope. Substance. A shitload of talent for Touma to tap at will." He smiled, a slow and secret smile. "Doesn't hurt that one of you is sexy as hell."

Shuuichi felt the heat rise to his face and hugged his arms around himself. "Not by choice," he muttered.

"Did I say _you_, brat? Nakano's the one that'll have them fainting in the aisles. You—"

The doorbell rang.

"That'll be the pizza." Yuki rose smoothly to his feet, heading for the door, pausing beside Shuuichi to catch his chin in his hand. "You? Well, you're just kinda cute, monkey-face." He bent and kissed Shuuichi again, lightly, with a seductive brush of his tongue against Shuuichi's.

"Catching flies, brat?" he asked, before disappearing out the door.

**TBC**

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**A/N**: Oooo...complications. Ah, well, that's what happens when you add a scene into the middle of an existing story. Now...Hiro has (albeit unknowingly) lied to Shuuichi. Ah, well, again...more fodder for the sequel: what happens when Shu finds out the truth about why Seguchi took on Bad Luck? And will Touma take Eiri's high-pressure tactics out on the band? And just what is Sakano's punishment? Don't ask me. I dunno...yet. First things first. **Next chapter:** _Strawberries and Cream_.

**Meadhb**: Hiya! Glad you're enjoying it. I think Suguru is a potentially fascinating little guy. I'm as guilty as the next Yuki/Shu obsessed writer about under-utilizing him, but after this chapter, I think I might be finding my 'inner-Suguru' so he might be showing up a bit more. I wanted him to be a real member of the band in this sequence. Still a bit apart, because he just doesn't share the history of the other two, but definitely a concerned member.

**Bakayasha**: Now do we really believe manga-Yuki stopped cuz Shu didn't have tits? Methinks the lad doth protest too much! Personally, I think falling on his butt on the floor had a bit more to do with his wake-up call. :D:D:D

**Pinkrose**: I'm glad the characters come across IC. I get so involved in the story when I'm writing that I don't really think about it and by the time I post, it's all such a balancing act, I couldn't change them even if I wanted to:D

**Nocturn Sadist and A-E:** Aren't those crystals just the weirdest thing? I do _not_ know where the idea came from! Yup, they'll come off...in some hopefully memorable little sequences. Skin replacement cells and all that. I'm assuming, actually, that it's a lower-heat glue than that used for affixing crystals to fabric, but Eiri didn't know that. And even low-temp glue hurts like the dickens if you get it on you. Besides, such details weren't meaning much to our drugged up little singer at the time.

**Bubble**: Even in my reading of the manga and anime, the music is actually part of what attracts Eiri to Shu, for much the same reason as I describe here. Artistic commitment recognizes artistic commitment...even if they aren't speaking quite the same language. Call me crazy. :D

**Scorch**: I don't think Eiri's done with Sakano yet. But...sequel! You all must think I'm nuts, relegating all this to the sequel, but remember, that last scene didn't exist two weeks ago:D It suggested a lot of possibilities. :D Thanks for picking up on Touma's snarky little gesture. Note as well that _Eiri_ noticed the slight, but does he say anything? I think he's more into the "figure it out yourselves" style of teaching. You can bet Suguru noticed. ;-)

**ghanima**: Thanks. It is, hopefully, a story with some greys in it.

**B-May:** So sorry to hear about your mum. Hope she's doing much better.

**Catmum56**: Another M's fan? YAYAYYAAY. Or...oh, dear, who were we playing that night? Well, at least another baseball fan!

**Supershu-chan:** You know, I'm just now reading the fifth Harry Potter book. (Goblet) I like to see the movie first so I don't go into the theater with preconceived notions. (Going to see the new one this week some time) I'm one of the world's slowest readers, so generally skim a book first, then go back and really read it. Seeing a good adaptation (as these movies are) is like that first skim. I just let the actors and producers do the work for me:D Glad the Eiri/Touma exchange gave you a good giggle. It was really fun to write.

**Chocho, Zoe, Bfly-R, KH, Misydidi, AN, I-O, Alaine, DarkIA101: **Thank you!

To everyone else: thanks for reading! Vin


	7. Strawberries and Cream

**Disclaimer**: _Gravitation _and its characters are the property of Maki Murakami. I make no profit from this other than pleasure.

**This is an AU, **chapter one caveats still apply. :D

**Warnings**: Serious calorie alert.

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴  
**Chapter Seven:  
****Strawberries and Cream  
**✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

"Why doesn't he just stay here?"

The suggestion was out before Eiri thought. Mostly, he wanted to end the stupid argument between the two musicians and get on with the serious business of finishing the pizza and moving on to the strawberries still lingering in his fridge, awaiting marriage with whipped cream and shortcake.

Touma had brought enough of the dessert for an army—which meant he might actually have enough to share with these two teenagers.

Maybe. If he ate enough pizza first.

Two sets of eyes were staring at him, one purple, one dark-grey.

"_What?"_ He snarled, and reached for another piece of extra-everything pizza.

"Do... do you really mean that, Yuki-san?" Shindou asked, in a tiny voice.

"Hell, no. I just want to finish dinner." He said around a healthy bite. He chewed and swallowed, washing it down with beer. "Listen, Shindou, it'll only take a few days for Touma's accountants to crunch the numbers. He'll give you guys an advance—" Or Eiri would know the reason why. "—and you'll be out. In the meantime, I assume you'll spend your days at the studio, getting the new CD cut...new mixes, or whatever it is you music-types do. I've got a deadline." Never mind it was three months away. His creative juices were flowing, had been since this damned brat had intruded into his life, and at this point, anyone got between him and his computer at their own risk. "You can sleep here. God knows I have the room. No skin off my nose."

And it would assure those words kept flowing rather than stagnating in a mind that would undoubtedly develop an annoying tendency to wander off into _wonder what's happening to the midget-muse_ mode. No different than giving a key to one of his (many) female muses. Once he was gone, he'd just reprogram the alarm . . . again.

Ah, the joys of the electronic era.

He reached for another piece of pizza.

Shindou just stared at him. An unreadable look that might, if he were someone else, be disturbing.

"It... it sounds like a pretty good solution, Shu," Nakano said hesitantly, but with a puzzled glance at Eiri. The long-haired guitarist had been eyeing him suspiciously ever since he kissed the screaming brat. Trying to figure, no doubt, where _his_ explanation of the previous night's events fit in with that kiss.

It was a good thing he didn't ask, since Eiri himself didn't have an answer. Like so much else in the past forty-eight hours, the kid just inspired him to do strange things.

Dammit.

"Shuuichi?" Nakano repeated and Shindou blinked at last. Then nodded. He plucked a piece of pepperoni off the cardboard, nibbled off the crusted cheese, before sitting back, cradling his cup of hot chocolate between both palms, taking the occasional sip.

Avoiding everyone's eyes. Embarrassed, no doubt. There certainly didn't appear to be much thinking going on behind the hooded purple eyes.

Finally, with an inarticulate murmur, he rose to his feet and took his hot chocolate out onto the balcony, sliding the door quietly shut behind him, to stand, sipping his cocoa, staring out across the park to the city beyond. The sunset made his dark hair glow with curious pink and gold highlights, and within the glow, tiny sparks of colored light... the jewels still clinging to his smooth skin.

Eiri did like his view.

"Why'd he do it, Yuki-san?" Nakano's gentle voice intruded into his visual moment.

_Why're you asking me?_ He almost said. Almost. A look at that worried young face somehow stopped it. They _were _young. So very much younger than the three years that actually stood between them and him. It was a strange position for him to be in. He didn't quite know what to do with it. He wanted to berate them both for being idiots, Shindou for getting into it in the first place, Nakano for not noticing the change in his so-called best friend. Idiots. The pair of them.

Idiots, yes, but idiots with dreams.

He'd been the same. Once.

"He's an idiot," Eiri said abruptly, salving his conscience in that much. He never had believed in white-washing the truth. "And so are you."

Nakano flinched and hung his head.

Dammit. If the guitarist had sniped back, this would be a hell of a lot simpler.

"Idiots with dreams." Reluctantly, he tempered his assessment. "There's no bigger idiot in the universe, and no bigger mark. He did it because he believed in his singing. You didn't notice for much the same reason. Done is done, Nakano. Don't let guilt rule your life."

Would that he could take his own advice. But his path had been set long ago, with a guilt far greater than a bit of whoring for his art. These two...there was no reason to dwell on this fiasco. It was over. Done. Shindou had survived pretty much intact. Seguchi had agreed to take them on the primary label. To recut the CD. To promote hell out of them. They were on their way.

Yippee.

All they had to worry about now was the corrupting influence of the music industry itself and insanely idolatrous fans.

Hell, maybe Shindou had been tempered enough he could survive all that as well.

But it would take time for these two to figure that out. Time. And a few more stage appearances that ended reliably in their own beds.

Fuck. He took another swig of beer and bit into his pizza defiantly. Not his problem.

Nakano watched his friend for a time, worried looking, then sighed and followed him to the balcony.

✴✴✴

"Shu, I'm... I'm really wiped." Hiro's light baritone drifted in through the cotton that seemed to be filling Shuuichi's head. "If you need me to, or just want me to, believe me I'll stay, but if you're really okay with Yuki-san's offer, and if I want to get home safely, I'd better go."

Shuuichi forced himself to think, forced his thoughts away from the spiraling images of his recent past that were mixing so unpleasantly with speculations on the present.

"I'm . . . I'm fine, Hiro. Go. Please. I . . . I've caused enough problems. For everyone."

But Hiro hesitated, eyeing him like he'd grown a second head. Then:

"Is _that_ why you said you'd stay here? Because you think you're a problem? Shu, say the word, and I'll take you home with me. We can manage. I just thought you'd be more comfortable here. I mean, you and Yuki-san obviously have something going—"

"We _don't._ I told you. I just met him."

A long silence during which he didn't dare meet his friend's eyes. If he did, Hiro would see the indecision, would insist on answers he didn't have, would bundle him onto his bike and take him home with him . . .

And he couldn't go. It wouldn't be . . . right.

"Shu." Hiro touched his arm. "What's going on here? You say you just met him, and now he's asking you to stay here? He's kissing you? More to the point, you're kissing him back?"

"I didn't lie, Hiro. I just met him in the park the night of our last concert. He saw my lyrics and mocked them and I challenged him to come hear us for real. The rest . . . hell, you know more than I do about why he . . . did what he did."

"And the kisses?"

He felt the heat rise in his face. "Doesn't mean anything. You heard him...it was just a way to shut me up. Stopped me from fainting, there in the hotel, and stopped me from screaming in the bedroom. I mean, get real. What could someone like him see in someone like me anyway?"

What the hell? Was that disappointment that had flooded him with that admission? But even before he'd given his body away to anyone willing to add to the Bad Luck budget, he hadn't exactly been the stuff of anybody's dreams.

But _was_ that what he wanted? To . . . be Yuki Eiri's . . . perfect someone? Kami-sama, he hoped not. _That_ was a dream doomed to disappointment.

Severe disappointment.

"Oh, Shu,...if you could only see yourself the way..." Hiro's voice caught, as if the words choked him, then Hiro's hands on his arms urged him around to Hiro's earnest face. "If you're telling me the truth, don't you _see _what he wants?"

He swallowed hard, and nodded. He wasn't _that_ stupid.

"And you're telling me you're okay with that?"

"Yeah." And something inside of him eased at that admission. "Yeah, Hiro, I am."

"Dammit, if he hurts you—"

He stopped the threat midway with a hand to Hiro's arm. "He won't."

"You can't be sure of that."

"Yeah, Hiro. I can."

"_How?"_

"Those others...they didn't give a damn about me. Yuki-san...don't you see? He didn't have to notice. Didn't have to follow. Didn't have to help. But he did. He did all those things."

"So, you'll let him fuck you out of gratitude?"

He shrugged, and tried hard not to bite his lip. "Something like that."

"Dammit, Shu, you don't have to."

"I don't have to, but I need to. I think...I think, maybe I even w–want t–to." He stared up at his friend, begging him silently to understand that which he barely understood himself.

"Oh, Shu,...I wish..."

"Don't even go there, Nakano Hiroshi. You're my best friend in the whole world. I love you more than anyone, and I won't have you taking karma over this. _I_ decided. _I_ did. I'll live with the consequences. And this..." Somewhere, he found a grin. "This is one of the better consequences, I assure you."

Hiro stared at him a long, long while, then cursed softly and pulled him into his arms in a warm hug.

"Love you, monkey-face."

"Ditto, bones. Now scram, will you?"

With a damp chuckle, Hiro released him and went back inside, sliding the door closed behind him.

✴✴✴

Eiri said nothing as the young guitarist shrugged into his coat and repeated his thanks. Shit, they made _way_ too much of his part in this ridiculous soap opera. He had a bloodthirsty temper that just needed the occasional nourishment. But this time, Nakano didn't stop at the thanks.

"I–I hate to say anything, Yuki-san, but I am worried. Please don't... don't press him too hard for a while. There's something. Something he's not saying. I..." Words seemed to fail the guitarist, words Eiri, frankly, wasn't interested in hearing, any more than he gave a damn about whatever problems Shindou still harbored. It was all getting far too angsty for his taste.

Angst was why the gods invented therapists.

Besides, at the moment, his tastebuds were far more interested in strawberries and shortcake and whipping cream, as he counted his portion (with Nakano leaving) now richer by one.

"Look. I'm no shrink. I've got a bed. He's welcome to it. My hospitality ends there."

"Of course." Nakano cast the small figure on the balcony one final worried glance, then sighed and headed for the door. "I'll be by tomorrow morning to pick him up for work. We'll do our best to make him as innocuous a houseguest as possible."

"Good enough." Eiri thrust himself to his feet and followed Nakano to the door, where he said at last, "Hell, man, don't worry about him. I'll keep my claws retracted. Promise."

A weary grin appeared. "Can't ask for more than that. Thank you again, Yuki-san. For everything."

With that, his home was again his own. Finally.

Except for that small pest out on his balcony.

He combined the last of the two pizzas into one box, tossed the empty and put the leftovers in the fridge for breakfast, pulling out the makings for dessert. He made two, a manly- sized one for himself, a pint-sized one for his pint-sized pest (who had wasted half a piece of perfectly good pizza, so probably didn't want any anyway) and took the plates plus his coffee and a fresh cocoa to join Shindou out on the balcony.

Shindou had curled into a chair out of the breeze, his knees drawn up to his chest, his no-longer-hot chocolate cradled in the middle of the human ball.

"Brought you a warm-up," Eiri said, and traded mugs with him before settling himself on the second chair and the plates of shortcake on the bistro table between them.

Shuuichi tipped his head, his eyes going from large to enormous over the top of his mug. "Wow."

Eiri grunted, and handed him the smaller plate. "You're welcome to more, but have to prove you can handle that first, midget."

"A–arigato," the midget whispered and licked his lips. He picked up the fork awkwardly, and after watching Eiri's first healthy mouthfuls, started to work away on his whipped cream and berries, gingerly seeking the shortcake beneath with the tines.

Funny, Eiri took American utensils for granted these days. Most people he ate with were as facile with forks as they were with chopsticks. Obviously, this kid stuck to the finger-consumed side of American cuisine.

He'd finished his and returned with seconds before Shindou had managed half of his. Shindou stared at his second heap in some amazement, and Eiri lifted a brow. "Will you be totally disgusted if I admitted this is really my third? It's my favorite desert and I snuck some this afternoon, while you were snoring away."

Shindou's mouth made a little 'O' of wonder. "Then... that's why..."

"Why... what?" Eiri prompted, honestly curious.

"You... tasted... when I was screaming, and you... ki... I mean, when you, um, shut me up, I t–tasted strawberries. And cream. It seemed..."

"Weird?" Eiri supplied, trying not to remember his own reaction to the taste of Shindou Shuuichi. In fact, he tried not to think about the kiss(es) at all. Kisses he found himself time and again in the middle of before common sense even twitched, never minding who was watching.

What _was _it about that mouth?

"Well, unusual, at least. I..." Shindou's fork flipped free, clattering to the decking, and he dived under the table after it. Eiri ducked to help, and their fingers met on the silver shaft.

Shindou pulled back as if stung, scrambled to his feet and retreated to the railing to stare blindly outward.

"Shindou?" Eiri asked, going to stand beside him.

"Wh–why?" The tiny whisper barely reached him.

"Why, what?"

Shindou's response, when it finally came, surprised, Eiri had to admit, even him.

"I–I'm very sorry, but I–I think you'll want to wear a c–condom."

"Huh?"

"L–last night. They didn't. I've always been careful. V–very careful. But last night, I c–couldn't stop them, and—"

"Shindou, for god's sake—"

"I... I'll get tested, of course, but until then... and the test takes time, but—"

Well, that pretty well explained Nakano's fears.

Common sense lost again. He turned the kid around and shut up that random muttering via the very pleasant means he'd discovered, but this time the kiss led to quiet sobs and trembling in the undersized, physically and mentally exhausted body.

"Two things wrong with your plan," he murmured into the soft hair, swaying gently with his arms around the kid.

"O–only two?" Came up on a drowned chuckled.

Good. The brat's sense of humor wasn't totally cowed.

"One... Yuki Eiri does not, I repeat, _not_ wear condoms."

"But—"

Eiri squeezed the protest into silence.

"He's also very careful. And he asks first. He doesn't do, if the tests aren't current and clean. He doesn't do if he doesn't trust. He doesn't obsess, but he is careful. In other words, he appreciates your warning."

"A–and the second?"

"Much as I appreciate the warning, Shindou, it wasn't necessary. I have no intention of committing the very moral crime from which I just worked fairly hard to extricate you."

Silence. A silence he couldn't begin to fathom, considering what this kid had been through in the past months, let alone the past twenty-four hours. He couldn't imagine what had led the kid to stay here, if he thought _that_ was what Eiri had had in mind.

And yet, could he really claim not to have considered the possibility? Why _had_ he followed the kid to the hotel? He excused his uncharacteristic involvement with his hatred of the whole vanity label concept, but he'd never been that altruistic before.

Because no singer in Shindou's position had ever . . . interested him before. And he _had_ been interested, intrigued at least, well before he saw the kid backstage. _Had _he tailed him with thoughts of rescue? And of seeing those eyes light with gratitude? Not to mention the other benefits of 'rescuing' an already committed whore? And under the circumstances, was gratitude sex really that different from payment sex?

And why the hell was he questioning his libido now when he hadn't in his entire adult life?

Fuck. This kid . . . this kid was dangerous.

"If that's the case," that dangerously sweet voice continued at last, "then... Why?... Why'd you bring me here? Why intervene with Touma? Why ask me to stay? W–why'd you... why'd you k–kiss me? Wh–what do you... want from me in exchange for a place to sleep?"

He thought carefully before answering, determined to set a safe distance between himself and whatever it was this kid was doing to him.

"One: Because I didn't think you'd want the hospital and the attendant publicity. I was tired. You were out. Here, I could lie in my own bed and get some rest and with you there with me, I'd know if you hit some sort of crisis." And oh, hadn't that had unexpected benefits. He flashed on the previous night, with Shuuichi cradled in his arms, fitting so damned perfectly in the curve of his body. Shuuichi writhing with nightmares, clinging to him as to a life preserver while Eiri whispered reassurances.

The stolen kisses that calmed the panic and silenced the nightmares.

It had been a new, and unexpectedly appealing, experience.

He shook himself free of the insidiously attractive memory. "Two: Because your band is fucking good. Three: So we could quit arguing and finish dinner so I could have my shortcake. Four: To shut you up. And five: not a damned thing, other than the brownie points I'll make with your boss."

Shindou's sobs had ended at last. He had pulled away enough to stare up at Eiri, his amethyst eyes luminous in the moonlight. Filled with... damn, if he didn't know better, he'd say that was regret.

"Is that why you agreed to stay?" Eiri asked, curiously . . . disappointed. "Some false sense of obligation?"

Shindou shrugged, and looked away. A streetlight glinted off the largest jewel, a ruby in the center of the starburst on his forehead. Shying quickly from that insidious hint of disappointment, Eiri bent down and kissed that jewel, gently teasing it with his tongue.

"Hell, when it falls off, you can give me that."

He gave the jewel a final caress and pulled away to a safe distance.

A blink, and... he must have mistaken the regret, for surely that was a look of relief mixed with confusion.

"What now?" Eiri asked, irritated at the threat of _more_ angst.

"B–brownie points?"

**TBC**

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**A/N**: My goodness. So much excitement over a few **kisses**. ;-) I have to admit, of all the elements in this story I thought might spark a controversial response, that one wasn't high on the list. I LOVE IT. This chapter and the next should clarify where Eiri's head was/is at, but to summarize, the first kiss, in the bathroom, was purely a visceral reaction to recent and current, er, visuals. He's intrigued by Shu, but there's nothing remotely like real love behind it. The effect it has on Shu, to steady him, is noted by our favorite author. Later, when Shu is in hysterics and the slap doesn't work, he gives that kiss-thing a try. Once it works, hell, in for a penny...at that point, it's become a bit of a game with sensory benefits.

Hopefully no small part of the shock value to the reader is the fact that the second kiss is in Shu's VP. It's _supposed_ to shock (or at least surprise) because it shocks him...out of his hysteria.

As to Eiri kissing him in front of all the others...Eiri is someone who has pursued married women openly (according to the manga.) I don't see him as putting a lot of emotional stock into kissing as a normal rule, I mean, he doesn't put a lot of emotional stock into sex:D In the canon, he rebuffs Shu's public advances as part of the control game he plays with their relationship. He's got no reason for that here and is indulging in a teasing practice which he, frankly, is enjoying, both the teasing part and the sensory part. He LIKES kissing Shu! Shu is eminently kissable! (And that's about as canon as anything in this story:D)

**Hika:** I sympathize with your response to the teasing in the scene, but Shu really doesn't give them too much chance to reassure him. He's babbling pretty steadily. But the real key is in Hiro's comment: _I guess we've left you hanging long enough to set the lesson. _Sometimes, the best thing for someone isn't to coddle them, especially when they're teetering on hysteria. Hiro's very gentle with Shu when he first wakes up and while there are people there to confuse him. When it's just Hiro and Yuki it's more like a bit of timely teasing to set the lesson. Shu's been dangerously stupid, and Hiro doesn't want to say that to his face, but he needs Shu to realize it's not going to be all hugs and kisses and blanket forgiveness, and figures teasing is a lot more effective than berating.

Also, Hiro know all Shu's worries are going to be set to rest as soon as he can get a word in edgewise.

Eiri, OTOH, is still pretty . . . disconnected. Shu's just an interesting problem to him at that point.

And that, if I might hazard a guess, might be that elusive "something missing" that you,** Nocturn Sadist**, commented on. In the anime and manga, Eiri has, from the start, a precious vulnerability which we haven't seen in this story...yet. Shu makes a frontal attack on Eiri's deliberate disconnect from the world and he's got to cope, right from the start.

Here, he's still in control—more as I imagine him to be in the pre-Shu era, although with some added teeth. Although Shu's done a bit of insinuating into the cracks, he hasn't yet pierced that armor. I keep saying your reviews have taken this story places it didn't originally go, hence the rapidly shaping sequel. _This _story is really about Shu wiggling his way past Eiri's armor.

**Tsubaki: **As I see him, especially in this circumstance, while our darling Hiro is more worldly than Shu, he's still just out of High School...and more to the point, I don't think this is something he'd ever expect "waiting for the perfect girl" Shu to do. I think he'd be really surprised and upset. Not that it goes on, just that Shu got cornered into it. He's certainly horrified that he _wasn't_ more worldly...in time to prevent its happening. It's, as they say, a learning experience. :D

Don't know if I'll be able to sell you on this Eiri or not. He's really acting on instinct, at this point, and responding to a practice he truly abhors (not surprising considering his past...yes, you can assume the whole Kitizawa event occurred.) Not that he's ever done the same for any other victim of the system, but no other victim of the system has ever chanced to make himself an individual to him. Shu has ignited, whether Eiri likes it or not, his vindictive side (rather than his protective side, though in this case, it amounts to much the same thing.) The protective-of-his-property instinct...that's coming on fast. :D

As for the touchy-feely (like the brush of the hand through the hair and the hand on the shoulder) my guess (if I were to get into his head at that point) is that it was a signal to Touma as much as anything. Far more meaningful to Touma than the kisses would be. This is probably the moment he begins staking out his territory. (Eiri would say pissing on trees, just to gross out Shu.) The fact that it steadies Shu is incidental to its greater value in the game with Touma.

Don't anyone mistake these for nurturing behaviors. :D

**Scorch**: Yup. This story is pretty much finished, though I'm doing some tweaking before posting...among other things, to take into account the comments people leave...Anyway, this story's ten, maybe eleven chaps long, depends on how it breaks up.

Glad you got the humor:D The fact is Hiro's really searching for a balance between understanding and making sure Shu knows he's _really _upset. :D

And I'm glad you caught Yuki's little double-take as he eavesdrops. I wasn't sure that would come through, and it was kind of a last minute addition. (That scene used to remain in Shu's VP until I added the Touma chapter.) I'm not sure myself if it's jealousy that motivated that move or just wondering how available Shu might be. ;-) Take your pick; I doubt it will be clarified, one way or the other. :D

**Bubble**: Sorry about the mixup. FFnet was going nuts again the day I posted Chap 6. This time, I just left it and eventually it sorted itself out. But the chapter was available, then not and advisements just finally arrived the next morning. Weird. Bless GB's simplicity, if not their reviewing system! (Does anybody know what the problem was there?) But FFnet appears to have settled at last.

As for Harry P...goodness, is there anyone left in the world who's _not_ a fan :D:D It's a wonderful series, both the books and the movies. I've just finished the second task in the Triwizard Tourney.

**Bakayasha**: Ah, titles...I'm having fun with those. I wonder, however, when Yuki's favorite desert went from chocolate pie/cake (ref: Shu's babbling in the manga during the quiz show) and strawberry shortcake. Hmmmm...must be a seasonal thing. :D:D:D Likely the dedicated sweettooth requires a winter backup for strawberry shortcake:D

**DiLong**: Heh heh...Shu's closet exit. I think I've used that a couple of times in stories, though I think this is the first published use. I just visualize Eiri's bedroom as something rather beyond Shu's comprehension (his family's home seems a very traditional, sliding doors kind of place.) Too many options, and being Shu, he'd have to pick the wrong one. :D:D:D

**A-E**: I'm honestly not sure exactly how it will all wash out with Sakano, but someone's going to take the brunt for Touma having to give in (he'd never say lose!) to Eiri:D Oh...and I've been meaning to look it up. Eiri's first image of Shu onstage singing No Style (except I'm not sure that's what he's singing) is around page 95 in the first manga. Just compare that image with every other one of Shu and you see him truly in his element. The curious thing is, I highly question the TokyoPop translation on that page where Eiri says "different, but still crap." Fannish scanlation has it "Poetical talent. I knew he had the ability." Pretty different, eh?

**Moon**: Welcome back! I just love these reviews. Because you've read the original, it gives me a really good sense for how the changes affect the story. Chap 4: I think Shu's different situation is definitely the instigator for a more proactive Eiri. Shu always serves as an insidious reminder of Eiri's past, but here, his need is immediate and before the armor's cracked. As for the additional Hiro moments: we all have your input to thank for that:D Glad you liked it and you were absolutely right.

Chp 5: I think even in the canon that Hiro's always known which way Shu swings, just waiting for Shu to figure it out. :D I mean, the boy's obsession with Ryu is just a little obvious:D As for Eiri and Touma...Eiri's challenging Touma in his own ballpark and has taken actions in the name of NG which Touma has a choice: fight Eiri, or deal with some truly unknown fallout (which will be coming in the soon-to-be-written sequel...:D:D:D) That's why he's shocked into straight dealing rather than wheedling. Like I said elsewhere, this chap really began to open my eyes to poor little Suguru. Don't know what I'll do with it, but I'll think of something.

Chp 6: More kisses! Hee hee. Never remove any...just add more. Eiri's having way too much fun! This chapter really is the turning point of the story...and yes, I'm sure there'll be more changes to the original before we're done. The whole "Eiri eavesdropping" was a direct response to reviewer reaction. By adding that chapter, I had to figure out some way to expose the fact that the version of Touma-related facts Hiro gives to Shu isn't quite the truth. (A fact I didn't realize until I wrote that interim chapter.)

As you'll see here...more fallout from the Hiro assumptions regarding the relationship.

Next up...ooo, what should I call it? How 'bout..._Liz Taylor Eyes._


	8. Liz Taylor Eyes

**Disclaimer**: _Gravitation _and its characters are the property of Maki Murakami. I make no profit from this other than pleasure.

**This is an AU, **chapter one caveats still apply. :D

**Warnings**: Only to Eiri. Well...a bit of lemon juice, I suppose. With a twist.

✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴  
**Chapter Eight:  
****Liz Taylor Eyes  
**✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴

Shuuichi tried, he truly tried, to help Yuki clean up the kitchen, but the second time he found himself standing in the middle of the gleaming space, a towel in one hand, staring blankly at the fork in the other, a hand reached around him, plucked the fork from his fingers and the towel from his arm.

"Bed," that cool, low voice said, just in his ear, and with the same efficiency of motion with which he did everything, Yuki slid the fork into the drawer, and hung the towel under the sink, making the whole room spotless—just like the rest of the house. Modern, hard-edged, metallic. Cool and precise. Efficient.

Just like its owner.

Shuuichi just...watched, finding the strangest pleasure in just...watching. He'd never been in a room with anyone whose simple presence made him feel...warm, whose appearance made him ache for nothing other than to look at him.

Not even Sakuma Ryuichi. When Ryu wasn't singing, he was just...ordinary. This man, this...Yuki Eiri...was never, _ever_—

"Hey."

He blinked his eyes clear to discover those stunningly sharp amber eyes singeing the air between them.

"Bed, idiot."

He shook himself free of the amber spell, and looked away, nodding. He headed for hallway, staggering a bit on bare feet gone numb, and suddenly Yuki was there—just—there, long fingers cupping his elbow, steadying his footsteps.

And he fantasized, just for a moment, a future where those fingers would never, ever leave.

But it was only, he knew, a fantasy. Those fingers, cool and efficient, were only...

Only...

Only preventing him from making a mess on that beautiful polished, hardwood floor.

✴

Shuuichi slid between the smooth, cool sheets, letting Yuki pull the covers into place, curiously disappointed when the author's interest in the red crystal was not repeated. He wasn't sure why the obviously well-to-do man would want a silly rhinestone, but... damned if he wouldn't remember and give it to him.

When it fell off.

He smoothed the dark blue sheets across the silver quilt. Cool. Metallic. Yet warm. Beautiful.

Like Yuki.

He really didn't understand the feelings this man roused in him. Snarky and even downright cruel at times with his words, he'd still come to the concert, had cared enough to be suspicious. Had come and rescued him...

The overhead light dimmed and died. Yuki was at the door. Leaving. Going to his own bed.

"Still think I need... _life experience,_ Yuki-san?" Shuuichi asked, on a bitter taste of memory, fighting the urge to beg the older man to stay, to hold him again tonight as he'd claimed he'd done last night, only tonight, Shuuichi would have stayed awake, would have impressed on his memory every twitch and sound this beautiful man made as he slept.

But he couldn't ask. Wouldn't beg. And so, he deliberately picked a fight.

Just to keep him in sight a few precious moments longer.

"My crap lyrics. Remember?"

Yuki's slim back tightened beneath his dark shirt, his broad shoulders straightened a degree. "Damn right, I do—to both questions. Though not..." He half-turned. One golden eye caught a shaft of moonlight. "Not the kind you think. I understand, now. You were hanging on, weren't you? With the lyrics, I mean."

Shuuichi pressed his lips together, swallowing a sob, and nodded.

"I thought so."

Indecision filled the room, then the tall figure turned and came back to the bed. "You said you were writing about the way you thought love _could_ be, if only you tried hard enough."

Shuuichi shrugged, not really wanting to discuss it. Glad just to have him back in the room. Grateful for a few more moments to impress the image on his memory, a few more oh-so-subtle shifts of expression and tones of voice to enrich the memory—once Yuki was gone.

"You... have a... point." Though from the tone, it was one of the harder admissions this cold-blooded man had made in his life. "It's a legitimate enough fantasy, I suppose. And probably no small part of what's kept you relatively sane and balanced this long, but..."

He waited for Yuki to finish, hoping against hope this cool, precise man would be able to put into words that which he could not. But there was no easy answer forthcoming, only a silence that was as vague as his own mixed up head. He scowled up at that perfect, unmoved face. "But, what?" When there was still no answer, not even a shift of expression, he scrunched down in the bed, suddenly bone-tired and hypocritically wanting him to leave now, wanting privacy to just... cry.

To mourn what might have been, if what was had never happened.

"Look, it doesn't matter," he said finally. "Thanks, all right? Is that what you want from me? Thanks for helping despite our—my—obvious shortcomings? I'm a crap lyricist, with a dumb-looking monkey face. Is that what you want to hear? Fine. I write tripe. Romantic tripe for love-sick fools. Fine. I can't imagine what induced you to ask such a no-talent to take up space in your guest bed, but, hey, if that's what—"

That warm cavern swallowed his words and the bed dipped beside him.

"Will you shut up?" Yuki whispered against his lips, and without ever breaking the kiss, Yuki pulled and pressed him until he was flat on the bed and Yuki was stretched over him. "It's not a guest bed. It's _my_ bed, and damned if you don't look fucking fantastic in it, damn your bubblegum hair and Liz Taylor eyes."

When he could breathe again, Shuuichi whispered back, "Who's Liz Taylor?"

Yuki groaned. "Michael Jackson's #1 fan?"

"Oh." He knew then. Had seen the pictures. "Pretty lady?"

"Very. And you should have seen her when she was younger. Pretty. With purple eyes, you idiot. Big. _Beautiful_. Purple eyes."

"Oh. That's good then?"

"Very, very good."

"Should I say thank you?"

"I think you should shut up."

"Oh. In that case, there's this very nice thing you do that—"

✴✴✴

Dear Buddha in heaven, this pint-sized fellow was addictive. Fortunately, for both of them, Shindou was far too tired to do more than kiss hungrily for a time. Those curiously inexperienced lips and tongue went soft and sleepy and fell away long before Eiri's need had been sated, and that suited him just fine.

This was one night he'd prefer to fall asleep hungry. The alternative was simply too dangerous.

Still, the tiny snore that replaced the tiny squeaks of pleasure banished even that remaining desire, and he pulled the kid close, reviving the sense of completion he'd found the previous night.

Shindou murmured something utterly incomprehensible, and wormed his way closer, burrowing his face into the crook of Eiri's neck like a tired kitten into its mother's fur.

Eiri smiled, there where it was safe, where there was no one to see, and wrapped his arms a degree tighter.

He wished, sweet Buddha, how he wished, he'd been telling the brat the truth. Wished his invitation to stay here had been predicated by simple expediency. Wished the image lurking behind his eyelids, the image that had his nether parts hardening despite his better sense, wasn't of this trim little body lying naked, bound and stretched, his small cock hard and weeping, a sex kitten ready for taking.

Wished he didn't find those glittering jewels damnably sexy.

Seeing the dreamy kid in the park, he'd been curious. Seeing the siren onstage, he'd been intrigued, seeing the sex kitten...

Eiri groaned and resisted the desire to pull the exhausted, brutalized young man hard against him, to push that aching throb into any spot able to receive it. Instead, he pulled away, seeking the sweet, innocent image from the night before to calm the effect of the siren.

Oddly, the young man lying next to him was exactly that: a young _man._ Last night had been different. Last night Shindou had looked... oh, fourteen at best, when he slept. Perhaps the difference tonight was the nature of his sleep. Last night, his sleep had been troubled, filled with panic and fear. He'd seemed so very young, so very vulnerable.

That vulnerability had touched something deep inside Eiri, something he'd needed to protect from what had happened to Shuuichi. He'd been...holding...that something as much as he'd been holding the kid. Protecting both. Reassuring both.

Now... at least, Shindou's mind seemed... quiet. Content. Possibly even, as a small smile touched the sleeping mouth, happy. It was a look that gently insinuated itself between himself and the sex kitten, that quieted Eiri's groin, and settled soothingly into that dark canvas behind his closed eyes.

It wasn't the child image, wasn't the sex kitten, but something far more intriguing...even appealing. Something filled with promise. A look that calmed, that reassured that inner pain so much a part of him for six years, a look that allowed Eiri to slide back down, and drift contentedly to sleep.

✴

Someone was crying. Softly. Little more than the occasional pillow-muffled sniff.

Eiri forced himself awake, found that charming armful right where he'd left it last, curled in the curve of Eiri's body, but it was, indeed, the source of that mournful sound.

Light filtered into the room through the half-open blind. The first hint of morning. He wondered how early, remembering vaguely something about Nakano coming to take his lead singer to the studio.

"Hey, kid," he murmured, and the slight frame stiffened, the sounds stopped. Eiri ran his hand lightly down the velvety-soft fabric covering Shindou's slender arm. Slender, but hard. There was latent power within the muscle hidden by velvet. "Are you all right?"

He thought for a moment, Shindou wasn't going to answer, then slowly, the small armful shifted about to give Eiri a determined smile.

"Of course, Yuki-san. Thank you."

Eiri ran a fingertip along a damp cheek. "But you were crying."

Shuuichi rolled his head to the side, avoiding Eiri's gaze. "Just... being stupid. It was nothing."

Nothing. Right. Eiri frowned. Shuuichi glanced up, winced and looked away again, swallowing hard, that smooth cheek darkening in the early morning light.

"Look, I just thought... last night, when you told me about the night before... I just wanted to stay awake, all right? I wanted to remember, well, the feeling forever. But I fell asleep so fast. And I woke up and it was morning, and now... it's all over and I'm just me again and—"

Eiri plugged the stream of words with his mouth.

And those intoxicating lips melted beneath his.

Those surprisingly strong arms wrapped Eiri's neck, making it impossible to pull away, even had he wanted to. He rolled up, pulling Shindou with him and the kid groaned and pressed hard, wrapping his flexible legs around Eiri's waist, pressing his undeniably needy lower portions to Eiri's belly. And suddenly the image returned in his mind. Not the sex kitten, not the vulnerable young man of last night, but an intriguing amalgam, as the promise of last night blossomed into reality.

Eiri held Shuuichi's face steady with both hands, letting his mouth wander the soft skin, lips and tongue finding and teasing the sparkling jewels.

A giggle. Surely, _surely_ that was a giggle. It was _the _sound that had, somehow, been missing from this charming puzzle. A sound that should be a constant companion, rather than a surprise guest, to the beautifully complex voice. "That _tickles." _

Thus encouraged, Eiri pursued the central ruby relentlessly. His fingers left Shuuichi's face to slide up under the sweatshirt to tease the skinny ribs and the giggles grew uncontrollable, the octopus grip entangling his body slipped free, and Shuuichi curled into a vibrating ball, arms and knees drawn in to protect his ribs.

Not one to lose so easily, Eiri began pulling extremities out of the tangle, holding them flat with knees, elbows and whatever else happened to be in the vicinity, until the kid lay gasping and giggling underneath him.

Slowly, the giggles dissolved leaving just gasps after breath. Huge Liz Taylor eyes stared up at him, unblinking.

Finally: "What?" Eiri asked, his voice harsher than he intended, but Shindou didn't flinch, just continued staring until quietly. Calmly:

"Make love to me?"

Eiri pulled away, frowning, and Shindou sat up, never blinking, never breaking that steady gaze.

"I just... I want to know what _it's_ like. When it's for real, you know?"

"Hell no. I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. What do you think is _real_? That I love you? Because I kissed you? How many of Sakano's 'friends' _didn't_ kiss you first? And if you say even one, I sure as hell won't believe you. That mouth of yours is too fucking kissable."

"It's not the same." Quiet desperation permeated Shindou's voice. "And you do want me. I can feel it."

"Of course you can. _My_ friend stands at attention every time I fucking look at you. You've a body that fucking begs to be taken. What makes you think I'm any different from those 'friends' of Sakano's?"

"You are." That kissable mouth grew soft and trembly. "You _are _different." Shindou scrubbed angrily at his eyes. A tiny sapphire chip came free to cling to a scraggly strand of pink hair. "You think I can't tell? I'm not stupid, I don't care what they all say. I know what I got myself into. I know it was dangerous and potentially disastrous to my music, but they didn't win. _They didn't win!_ They didn't destroy me _or_ my music. Couldn't. Because they couldn't destroy the dream. I... all I want is to _feel_ the dream. Just once."

Eiri frowned and rescued the sapphire as Shindou continued in a rush, his small hands gripping the front of Eiri's wrinkled shirt.

"It doesn't matter that you don't love me, just _make_ love to me. Please. I love you. Maybe not forever, but right now, what I feel _is_ love, I know it is, and if only you'd pretend, just for an hour or two—"

This time when Eiri stopped the flood of words, it was on a tide of anger. He ravaged that mouth, determined to show Shindou he was no different from those other greedy men, that Shindou's fantasies were not his own...

But the magic of that mouth won yet again.

God... why, oh _why_ couldn't this damnable fellow have a proper case of morning mouth?

Eiri groaned, pushed Shindou back into the pillows and began a serious exploration of the body beneath the sweatshirt.

As Shindou writhed in squeaking ecstacy, Eiri eased the jacket's zipper slowly down, exposing the smooth skin of his chest a centimeter at a time, teasing the multitude of sparkling gemstone chips, and when he got to the nipples... oh, the nipples. A ring of ruby chips around the aureola provided a fence within which his tongue was delighted to play.

Shindou convulsed and screamed.

Eiri pulled back.

"Wow. Does that happen often?"

Saucer eyes stared at him from a slowly shaking head. "H–hell, no."

He forced his attention from those amazing eyes and examined the wrinkled skin about the hardened nipple. The ruby chips now made a continuous circle, the contracted skin pinching between the sparkly bits.

"Hmm...does it hurt?" he asked, scientifically curious.

"I... don't know if it h–hurts or—" Shindou blushed a deep, bright red, and his startled gaze fell at last to hide behind a ragged fall of rich magenta hair.

Gods, how could this kid have been screwed regularly for months by several dozen horny rich men _and _women and still be embarrassed by something as innocent as physical pleasure? _If _the self-consciousness was real. It was always possible Shindou could blush at will. Possibly part of what made the word spread so rapidly regarding this particular 'investment.'

Real or not, that gentle modesty was a serious turn-on.

"Want me to leave it alone?" he asked calmly, rescuing yet another sparkling escapee and setting it on the side table beside the sapphire.

A flicker of purple flashed at him through the pink strands, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. A tiny whisper asked, "Would you be totally disgusted with me if I said... no?"

"You're kidding me, right?"

The purple eyes appeared in full, and the dark red tinge faded from the gemstoned face. "I... don't think so."

"How could I be disgusted..." Eiri paused to lick delicately at the puckered skin, felt Shuuichi's erection twitch wildly beneath the sweatpants, and chuckled. "When it's so fucking sexy?"

Shuuichi whimpered and pressed his knuckles to his mouth, a futile attempt to control the noise as Eiri pursued those puckered mounds, finding the tiny, sharp gems curiously exciting when mixed with the supremely perfect texture of human skin.

Things were just beginning to get seriously interesting, when:

"Y–Yuk—_ah-ah-ah!"_

He gave another lap, then: "You were gasping?"

"C–c–c—"

"Cock? I'm getting there. Don't rush the—"

"_Condom!"_

Oh. That.

"Hell, I'm not worried—"

"Well, _I–yai-yai—"_ A very serious gasp after breath. Yuki grinned at the contracting naval, and pushed the sweatpants a centimeter lower.

"Yes?"

"_Iyam."_

"'Iyam.' Are we inventing a new language?"

"I'm worried."

"I told you. I don't use them. Haven't got—"

"B–backpack. I have—"

Backpack. He focused back onto the hotel room. Remembered, vaguely, a Choco-cat backpack beside the doorway. Somehow, he doubted it belonged to American-bastard-san.

"Sorry. Think we left it."

He also somehow doubted the devastated look was for the loss of a few condoms.

"Had something important in it, did you?"

"All my notes... the lyrics I'm..." A small shaky sigh. "Doesn't matter. Better than..."

"We'll get it back, Shuuichi. I'll call Tohma."

"A–arigatou." Trembling lips parted in an attempt at a smile, and those stunning eyes glanced up at him. "I never really thanked you properly, did I? For saving me, I mean."

"I thought that was what we were working on when I was rather rudely interrupted."

"I... I didn't mean to be rude."

"I honestly don't think you have to worry." He let his fingers wander Shuuichi's rather fantastic skin, rescuing loose gems. "Those bastards weren't the type to take risks. Probably did you commando because the word's gotten around that _you're _careful." Fortunately, the glue didn't seem to have done any permanent damage to the smooth skin beneath. "So shall we proceed with that show of appreciation?"

No answer. Somewhat surprised, he left his contemplation of the hairs beginning to appear above the waistband, and glanced up to find himself the subject of a silent, ambiguous appraisal.

"What?"

"Is that how Yuki Eiri has been... careful? Rationalizing probabilities?"

"Rationalizing... geeze, brat, where'd you learn such big words?"

"When his life might depend on it, even the worst student will do his homework. —Besides, what makes you think it's just you I'm worried about? When was the last time _you_ were tested, I don't-wear-condoms-san?"

"Fuck you." Eiri pushed himself away, his mood utterly destroyed. "What the fuck do you want from me, Shindou?"

The quivering lip threatened. "I don't know."

"The hell you don't."

White teeth caught and tamed the quiver. Finally, on an unsteady gasp for breath: "P–peace of mind? Security? A moment of unconditional love?" A tiny shrug. "Hope that the past isn't all there is for me? A promise that the future might be something better?"

"I can't give you any of those things."

"I... know. And that's why I can't let you risk your life and mine."

Shindou slipped from the bed, carefully arranging the covers behind him, and headed for the door, zipping his sweatshirt with visibly quivering fingers.

"Where the hell do you think you're going at this time of night?"

"The couch." The small figure in pale blue paused at the door, turned and bent a degree more than politeness dictated. "Good night, Yuki-san. I'm sorry to have waked you up."

The door clicked shut, and he was alone.

✴✴✴

Kami-sama, why couldn't he stop crying? Sure, he'd been a bit of a cry-baby all his life, but everyone he knew knew not to take him seriously. Hell, _he_ knew not to take himself seriously... until lately. Lately, the tears had been different.

Lately, they'd hurt.

Did he really want Yuki-san to make love to him? Did he want to fuck someone that badly? Someone he barely knew? Someone who had blown into his life like some hero in a bad romance, had saved him like some stupid damsel in distress...

Did he want this man so badly he was ready to die for it? Or was he just that desperate to be loved? Just once.

Oh, he knew Hiro loved him, and he loved Hiro, but their love was special. Fucking had no part in it and never would. He wanted to know what it was like to be fucking-style loved.

He wanted someone to feel for him what he was very much afraid he was beginning to feel for Yuki-san.

But did he want it badly enough to risk dying for it?

He'd promised himself from that first time that he would _not_ die one of the stupid-stat people, people who couldn't control their cocks, who thought they were above the laws of biology.

He'd been called stupid all his life, but he wasn't going to be a stupid dead person.

Instead, he'd die old, smart... and without the one person that somehow, at this moment in time, was the only person he could imagine ever touching him again. Whose touch had already made him feel...whole...for the first time in his life. So, he lay on a couch, alone, cold, his throat sore, his head throbbing, and his eyes still leaking live-stupid tears—

Warmth drifted down around him.

He gasped and curled instinctively into the folds of the soft blanket. A strong, gentle hand cupped under his head, lifted it to allow a pillow to be slipped underneath, then released him into the welcoming coolth. That hand moved to his shoulder, and a deep voice murmured:

"It's still very early. Get some more sleep. I'll call Touma in an hour or so. Tell him you're still too sick to come in. I'll go with you. We'll both get tested. Together." The hand moved to his hair, fingercombing it back from his temple in a gentle, slow massage. "I've played the optimistic ostrich for too long."

Relief, joy, hope, embarrassment flooded through him, stopping any words cold. Instead, he reached to that invisible hand, felt fingers intertwine after just a moment's hesitation, and he drew that cool, dry hand to his lips, kissed each knuckle, and finally found a single word, though it arrived on no more than whisper:

"Arigatou..."

✴✴✴

Thank you, he said.

Idiot.

Him, not Shindou.

But then, what was he supposed to do? No one, _no one_ had ever ...voluntarily... left his bed. Certainly no one had ever had the gall to leave him in _that_ condition. Especially someone who was obviously as interested in completing what they'd started as Shindou had been.

But was that any reason to let the damned needle-wielding leeches at him? By the time dawn rolled around, his throbbing groin would be back to normal. He could send this kid off to NG and go find...hell, any one of a dozen women who'd jump at the chance to scratch this particular itch.

But it wouldn't work. Shindou was the current muse and Shindou was the only real answer to the problem.

Dammit.

Eiri eased his hand from the small fingers as their hold went lax, staring down at that tear-streaked face, the impossibly sweet ghost smile curling that oh-so-kissable mouth.

So much strength hidden in sweetness. He'd . . . never met anyone remotely like this. It... intrigued him, that was what. As an author. As a possibility for some future character.

His muse.

That was his story...and he was sticking to it.

**TBC**

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**Next up: **_Leeches_. Shu and Yuki get tested.

**Reviews: **Yipes. This got pretty long. Sorry.

**Bakayasha**: I can't say I set up that moment deliberately, but I admit, I've always loved in the anime where Shu literally melts into a pile of goo when Eiri tempts him with The Date. :D

**Grunhilda**: Wow...what a lot of good comments!

I dunno, you write one heck of a jaded Shu. Really, _really _enjoyed "Paler Kind of Life" (everybody on Gurabite: go read:D) As for the use of "damp" I will, at the very least, admit it's eclectic and does, certainly, push the definition, but as a noun, it is, in this instance, "moisture on a surface." As you say, agree to disagree. :D

However and just a more generic observation: I try be wary of the concept "can only be used." Stretching the limits of common usage is a time honored tradition of fiction and one way to achieve a desired affect. It also allows language to mutate with the culture. Slightly unconventional usage can also create a momentary twitch in the hindbrain of the reader that heightens the effect of the moment without destroying the mood. It can make the entire image stand out, or cause a surprised double-take, which the reader then shares with the character.

OTOH, it's good to challenge, because if a writer does choose to challenge the limits, it s/b with conscious thought, not casual ignorance. (Yes, I did know at the time I wrote it that it was an unusual choice, but I checked the dictionary to be certain, once you asked.) Mostly, where it comes to grammar (esp that dictated by the (mostly useless) Chicago book of style) it's important to learn the rules in order to know when you're breaking them and why. If you haven't got a good reason, best to stick with the rules.

Re: **boy kissing**: it's funny...the first novel I ever wrote (many years ago) had a very complex male/male relationship and one of the things I avoided was kissing...for two reasons. Wasn't sure how a mainstream (well, SF/F) publisher would take it, but also...I was well into it before I realized the boys _hadn't _ever kissed. I didn't really know why at the time, but years later, when I rewrote it for a new edition, I discovered a very significant reason which one of the characters had hidden from me all these years.

The only reason I bring that up is because kissing is one of those things that, for me, the characters absolutely determine the when and where. I don't push it. If it happens, then I might have to figure out why for the purposes of the story, but I think, as much as sex, kissing s/b a Big Deal and part of the story...because it is a very intimate interaction, in some ways, moreso than sex (hence as in your own story, many hookers' "no kissing" rule.) Also, as with the sex, I don't go into a lot of detail...unless that detail is necessary for clarity. I'm not writing a sex manual. :D

Glad you like the pacing. I'm not one for elaborate description, whether in environment or angst-ridden thought processes, for all I tend to write very psychologically-driven stories. It's one reason I don't post as I go but have the basic story completed before I even begin posting. I find lots of "bits of necessary business" as I go along that if I just go and insert a little setup in an earlier chapter, I don't have to do a lot of pace-slowing back-explanation at the time. There's a cool resonance that occurs in the human memory that can replace a whole lot of words!

I think that's what you're probably seeing, **Tsubaki**. Sometimes...sometimes, if I'm finding just the right word difficult to find, I let it be hard for the character to find as well. Sometimes, I think, editing can become too efficient, and the smooth, perfect language just a little...too perfect. Many writers who are touted as "great stylists" to me become downright boring for just this reason. To me, the greatest stylist ever is CJ Cherryh, whose "style" is utterly transparent and secondary to the character's voice. Actually, her style is the character's voice:D Even if sometimes that "character" is a leaf on a pond. Anyway, I tend to keep descriptive prose within dialogue and action to a minimum. I feel a need to keep the dialogue or the action moving, but once the moment is over, the character can always pause at the door and think "Damn. What I should have said is..."

Sheesh...does that make any sense whatsoever???

:D As for setting the environment, **YaoiBlackLeather**, frankly, that's a weakness of mine. I'm so interested in the characters, I tend to short-change their framework. I'll try to do better, because it's a bad tendency to indulge.

**Angelique**: I agree re: the login system. I'd love to know who is responsible for making it necessary. I never really saw anything that abusive, but then, there's a lot I don't read. At least GB's login lets your computer remembers your password...unlike the new FFnet system (grrrr)

Re: the title: Casting Couch as in the "traditional" way for a bit player to get a major part by sleeping (on the casting director's office couch) with the casting director/producer/or someone else in power.

**DIA101: Brownie points:** Don't worry, Shu didn't know either. And...I never did explain in the story, so I'd better now. It's an Americanism. Brownie points are_ "a hypothetical currency, which can be accrued by doing good deeds or earning favor in the eyes of another, often one's superior."_ (Thank you Wikipedia!) Also, thanks to Wikipedia: most likely origin: "_...the term derives from the name of a 19th century American railroad superintendent, George R. Brown who, in 1886, devised what was then an innovative system of merits and demerits for railroad employees on the Fall Brook Railway in New York state. Accounts of his system were published in railroad journals, and adopted by many leading U.S. railroads. American railroad employees soon began referring colloquially to "brownie points", and at some point, the term entered the general vocabulary."_ It has since been linked with "brown-nosing" and, indeed, the Girl Scouts point system, but I'm pretty sure the above is its actual origin.

Hmmm...the fact I'm having to explain makes that a less than satisfactory punch line. Taking a mental note...

**KyoHana**: Thanks. I liked that line, too. Love it when characters come up with those. This chap has one of my all-time favorite lines. From Shu. Can anybody guess which one?

**Scorch**: Ask has already shown up in the sequel plans.

**Bakayasha:** Re: keeping characters in character. I'm glad to know others feel I manage this. Of course, I do, or I wouldn't write this as Gravitation fanfic:D One thing that helps is that I've created a lot of my own characters and that I write a tight viewpoint at all times. That helps me "slip into" a variety of character's skins...even if it's a character someone else has created. If I respond to them as I have the Gravi characters, then it's like slipping on a familiar tee-shirt. Then, I just put them in a situation and let them go. Mostly, I just try to stay out of their way. :D

Sometimes, as with this story, I'll neglect a significant character. Moon71 saw that and said she'd love to know what Hiro was thinking and why didn't he notice. So...I just asked him. Most of the Hiro bits prior to Shu's waking are the result of that comment. He was sitting in the back of my mind, ready to talk; I just hadn't asked. Other characters aren't as cooperative. That's when you pull out the sweat lamps:D

I know I've forgotten somebody. I'm sooooorry.


	9. Leeches

**Disclaimer**: _Gravitation _and its characters are the property of Maki Murakami. I make no profit from this other than pleasure.

**This is an AU, **chapter one caveats still apply. :D

**Warnings**: Needles.

✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴  
Chapter Nine: Leeches  
✴✴✴ ✴✴ ✴✴✴

One ring. Two.

Eiri tucked the phone between his ear and his shoulder and poured his second cup of coffee as the phone rang a third time. On the fourth:

"_You have reached Seguchi Touma's private office phone. Please leave a message."_

Perfect. He palmed the phone, relaxed his shoulder.

"Touma? Me." He took a sip of coffee. "Listen: Shindou's sick. I'm taking him in to see a doctor. My bet is nerves and stress. What do you expect? He's as dainty as your bunny-nibbler. Anyway, he won't be in. Two things you need to see to. One: Shindou's backpack. It has his notes for his lyrics. He left it in that American's love nest. Get it. Two: Those bastards didn't use condoms. It's part of the kid's agreement. They owe him. I want current full range STD tests. On both. Yester—"

The phone clicked._ "Eiri? Eiri! Don't you dare hang up."_

He grinned into the steam rising from his cup and sipped again.

"'Morning, Seguchi. Get my message?"

He could almost hear his brother-in-law gathering his wits. Oh, he'd gotten him, he had.

"_Eiri, don't be ridiculous. I can't—"_

"You get them, or the cops do, and it's all over the papers. Take your pick."

"_You wouldn't."_

"I damn sure would, _and _love every minute of it. They crossed the line, Seguchi. Big time."

There was a long, _long_ silence on the far end of the line, but Touma knew damn well he _would_ do it, if only to watch Touma sweat.

"You owe me." He twisted the knife, set down the coffee mug and reached for his cigarettes.

"_The hell! How?"_ God, he loved it when that fucking control broke.

"Six years ago, _brother-in-law_. Six fucking long years. You whisked me out of New York. Remember? The height of the HIV scare and you didn't even stick around to demand my rapists' bodies get tested."

"_It was for your sake—"_

"The hell it was. It was so your fucking perfect pop-star image didn't get tarnished. _You_ didn't want the mess. It was self-defense, _brother-in-law._ I was sixteen. No jury would have convicted me."

"_You were a _Japanese _sixteen-year-old."_

"Which only meant I looked even younger and dumber than most." He tapped out a cigarette, caught it with his lips, then removed it, unlit. "Three years, Seguchi. Three years I fucked anything and everything, and those who wouldn't fuck, I fought—not giving a damn, not daring to get tested because I knew I was going to die. Then I finally landed in hospital and got tested—no thanks to you. And retested, until the damned leeches declared me clean. But I _was _clean. I always was. And I finally had peace of mind enough to get on with my fucking life. No thanks to you."

Another, very long silence, while he lit a post coital cigarette. God, that had felt good. Theirs was a long and noble battle of wits. It kept them both sharp.

And he had Shindou to thank for one of his best ever offensive maneuvers. Good enough reason to cater to the brat's whims.

Finally, a near-silent, hissed: _"Damn you, Eiri."_

"I'll tell Shindou he'll know by tomorrow, then, shall I?" he said, around the cigarette.

"_Bastard."_

"Excellent. Have a nice day, _brother."_ Oh, that would get him. He never acknowledged the legal link between them. It would drive Touma nuts trying to figure.

He took his coffee and cigarette and headed for the office. The kid was still sound asleep on the living room couch, curled on his side, face buried in his pillow. Lucky for him. If there'd been a single colored sparkle, or a hint of that irresistible mouth, he feared he wouldn't be able to resist waking him up.

For a moment, Eiri just stood there, shoulder to the wall, sipping his coffee, watching the morning sunlight shimmering in the mop of pink hair.

Funny, even as little more than a lump under a blanket, he was still . . . kinda cute.

He shrugged away from the wall and headed down the hallway toward his office.

✴✴✴

"You don't have to do this," Shuuichi mumbled into his t-shirt as he pulled it over his head. He'd surprised himself by going right back to sleep, there on the couch. He'd have thought guilt would keep him awake for certain. He owed Yuki...so much...and now here he was, asking for more.

Beyond the guilt, there'd been the little matter of a certain tension down around his groin...

But he _had _gone to sleep and when he'd waked up, Yuki had already called NG and done the research and picked the clinic they'd go to.

He had no doubt as to why Yuki was doing this. Pity. Yuki felt sorry for him. And yet... _It's my bed and damned if you don't look fantastic in it..._

Kami-sama...had he...was there a chance...that he truly meant it? None of the others ever had. It had always been the stage image they wanted: make up, sweat, leather and straps.

"Idiot." A hand reached through the neck of the shirt and grabbed his damp hair, pulling his head up. "Listen, monkey-face, I want to, all right?"

Monkey-face. Guess that answered his question.

He sighed and pulled the shirt down...to his knees. It was one of Yuki's. Dark blue. Long-sleeves he had to roll up just to clear his hands. Combined with the pants from the sweatsuit, he probably looked like a clown.

"What's with the pout, brat?"

Pout? He looked up through his hair into the mirror, at the much taller reflected-Yuki, who was applying something to his hair, arranging it into that perfectly-tousled look, trying very hard to ignore the short, monkey-faced dork beside him.

"You said I was sexy."

"Huh?" Confusion. That was definitely confusion on Yuki's handsome face. Shuuichi sighed and explained.

"Last night. You said before I was just kinda cute. That Hiro was the sexy one. But last night, or rather, this morning, you said I was sexy."

A wicked twinkle appeared in the exotic golden eyes. "I said, as I recall, that those sparkly bits were sexy." A long finger left the blond hair to trace a delicate pattern along Shuuichi's chest. _"Especially_ the reaction when I licked you, just about—" The fingertip brushed the hidden nipple, Shuuichi gasped, and Yuki grinned. "See what I mean?" Yuki turned back to the mirror, made a final adjustment to that perfect hair, and shoved Shuuichi toward the bathroom door. "Let's move, monkey-face."

"But—!" Shuuichi strained his head to try and see himself in the mirror. He'd had to use the shower second and was way behind Yuki. "My hair—"

Yuki pulled him around, away from the mirror and frowned down at him a moment, raised his hands to Shuuichi's head, as if he was going to coif it as carefully as he had his own, then just buried his fingers in the strands and tousled the mass wildly, grinned and declared the result, "Perfect."

"Yuki!" Shuuichi tried to push back to the mirror, but Yuki pulled him into his arms and kissed him, hard, then said against his lips:

"Touch a single strand, brat, and I'll kick you out."

Shuuichi sighed, his eyes drifted open, and he no longer cared what his hair looked like.

"Now _that,_" Yuki murmured, brushing his lips a second time, "Is sexy."

✴✴✴

Damn ham-handed leeches.

Eiri pressed the cotton ball to his arm, controlling the urge to tell the nurse exactly what he thought of his skill with needles. He hated needles. Hated hospitals. Hated these little nooks in an open hallway where they surrounded you with a random sampling of the Marquis de Sade's toolkit. Where they forced you on display to every staff person and sicko that passed by, staring, waiting for you to scream or faint or perform some other—

"Yuki-san, I do apologize..." the fellow said, lifting the cotton ball and applying a new one, this time with tape to hold it in place.

"I've had worse," Eiri muttered irritably, sliding off the raised chair and rolling his sleeve down. He looked up at last, caught the worshipful look that said the man was a fa-a-an, a look that quickly shifted to dismay, and said, on a sigh. "Look. Relax, okay? It's not your fault my veins dive for cover the instant I encounter the stench of sterile."

A relieved smile followed him as he made good his escape.

Only to find Shuuichi still standing beside the counter, clipboard in hand.

"I–I thought it would b–be enough," he caught the soft voice, and stepped back into a corner where Shuuichi wouldn't see him. "P–please, it... it's all I've got right now, and I _need_ to get the test. Next month—"

"I'm sorry, Shindou-san, but it's against clinic policy."

"Yuki-san?" The needle-wielding nurse came up, question in his eyes, but Eiri raised a silencing finger as the receptionist's voice continued:

"Besides, I fear the money isn't the only issue. We must have an address—"

"B–but I gave you my cell-phone—"

"An address, young man. Clinic—"

"Policy. Yes, I understand." A soft sigh.

"I'm truly sorry." And from her voice, she was. "There's a clinic downtown, that..."

"Yes. I know about it. Thanks." Embarrassment and resignation permeated the gentle murmur. Eiri could almost hear those slender shoulders slump. Dammit. He would _not_ come all the way down here for nothing.

Eiri unbuttoned his cuff again and walked into the waiting room, adjusting the sleeve, as if he'd just finished.

"Next," he said cheerfully, walking up beside Shuuichi, standing at the desk, looking forlornly at the clipboard. "C'mon, brat, time's wasting."

His expressive eyes remained hidden beneath lowered lids and long lashes.

"Um... I'm going to have to come back, Yuki-san. I... ate breakfast—"

"Not an issue with this test, baka. What did you tell them you were here for?"

Shuuichi nodded to the receptionist and headed for the door, but Eiri caught his arm before he could escape, pulled him around to trap him between himself and the counter, putting both arms around his shoulders to hold him firmly in place. "Just put it on my card," he said in a low voice to the receptionist, who looked from one to the other, then nodded knowingly, "and send the report to the same address."

"Yuki, you can't—" He stopped Shuuichi's protest with that highly effective method they'd discovered, the baffle-screen protecting them from the curious in the waiting room, if not from the open-mouthed leech waiting for his next victim.

"Do me a favor?" he said, gifting both the receptionist and the leech with his most enticing smile, "and take him right in? He's worse than I am about needles..."

That got him a flash of annoyed violet. "I'm not—"

"Oh, but you are." He got the nod from the leech, and gave Shuuichi a small shove toward the recessed chairs. "Go, baka. I want my lunch."

Shuuichi glanced toward the waiting room, tucked himself tighter into the privacy-shield and murmured: "I dunno. I feel a protest—"

Eiri chuckled and taking the hint, stopped the 'protest' before it began, then shoved the kid into the hallway.

"All right," Shuuichi said, as he rolled the black sleeve up, baring his slender arm. "But I'm paying you back."

"Damn right, you are."

The syringe appeared, and Eiri swallowed hard. "I'll...wait out there."

Shuuichi's giggle followed him out into the waiting room.

✴

What was it about that damned kid that had him breaking every rule in his carefully constructed Code of Intimacy? Kissing in a hospital waiting room? Worse, kissing another _man? _Gods, he must be going senile.

Senile. At twenty-two. He could see the reviews panning his next book already. Except he knew he wouldn't. Knew that book taking shape on his computer would be one of his finest.

Dammit.

Eiri threw himself into a chair to wait for the kid to emerge from the vampire's den, grabbed the first magazine that came to hand and when he found himself reading the same line five times, tossed the well-thumbed periodical back onto the stack, stretched out in the chair, crossed his ankles and closed his eyes.

All to savor the pink-topped image playing on the backside of his eyelids.

Damn, he was amazing on stage. Touma wouldn't regret the shift in status or the expense of remixing that CD.

Providing the brat didn't crack. Wasn't that the question? He needed ... something ... badly. Something he thought Yuki Eiri could provide. Something, it was just possible, only Yuki Eiri _could _provide. What surprised Yuki Eiri the most was the fact that he was actually considering the consequences of _being_ that something.

_Peace of mind? _He supposed in a way they were working on that now, though he doubted it was quite what the kid had meant. Once they had the HIV results, damned if he wouldn't get his own GP to see the kid on an emergency basis for a complete physical. Make sure these trysts hadn't done anything _else_ physical. He'd like to get Shuuichi to talk to his shrink as well, but the brat couldn't possibly afford it—yet—even if he could convince him to talk to her, and somehow he suspected _he_ wouldn't be allowed to foot that bill either, not even temporarily.

And he was considering that altruistic gesture ... why? Damned if he knew. Yuki Eiri was _not_ a nurturing sort, yet something about this kid roused the strangest instincts...

Of course, if he just kept the kid around for a while ... a week or two would probably do the trick, but he supposed he could stand him for a month ... he might be able to tell if he _needed_ a shrink. God knew, he had plenty of personal experience with the whole panoply of psycho-social diseases.

_Security_? If he were honest, he'd admit he already gave the kid that small gift without even trying, felt it every time they touched. That sense of panic, of being lost, the simple fear that seemed to lurk behind every shift in his life, thanks to Sakano's machinations, melted the moment their lips met. Not that those kisses meant anything to _him_, other than a moment's pleasure.

And they were. Pleasurable. Extremely.

_A moment of unconditional love?_ He supposed he could fake that, for all he personally considered it to be humanity's greatest self-delusion.

_Hope that the past isn't all there is for me?_ That one was easy. Solved in a single night's unfettered coupling. He had absolute confidence in that.

_A promise that the future might hold something better?_ That... was the scary one. Give the kid that night, give him even the mutually acknowledged pretense of his unconditional love, and would the disappointment when Yuki Eiri's determined independence reasserted itself undo any good he'd managed? Tonight was one thing, but what about tomorrow? The next day? How long before the kid got over _needing_ him? Would a moment be enough? Would one night of pretend tenderness undo all those nights of being a piece of meat?

And was it really worth all this head work? Hell, yes, he wanted into the kid's pants. Badly. But a frustrated libido was hell and away easier to deal with than what he might be getting into, if he followed through with this—

Something was tickling his nose. Dammit. He thought his stylist had gotten rid of those too-long hairs. He swiped absently, and the tickle disappeared, only to return almost immediately. This time, he cursed softly and scrubbed his hand across his face.

A giggle happened beyond the dark. A singularly melodious giggle.

He scowled and opened his eyes to meet Shindou's upside down and slightly cross-eyed gaze...and a cotton ball held in a two-fingered grip, poised above his nose, ready for a third attack.

"You were snoring," the pink-haired pest murmured.

"Was not."

"Were."

"Not."

"How would you know?" This time, it was pink hair, not a cotton ball tickling his face.

"Shit, brat, have you no sense of public display?"

"None. I'm a stage performer, remember?" The words were a whisper against his forehead. He hated, he sincerely _hated_ to admit the little chill of (glug!) delight that rippled down his spine.

"Yeah, well, get out of my face."

The kid immediately sobered and straightened. "Somebody wants to talk to us."

Good god. The internet search had said immediate results. Could they be in already?

Eiri stood up and, found nothing but acceptance in the eyes of those in the waiting room, those awaiting similar life-changing results. Acceptance, and appreciation of his sexy, sparkly little gnome. Acceptance. Appreciation...and concern.

He glanced at his little gnome, who tried to grin, even as he swallowed visibly and shuddered, and found himself, wittingly or not, sharing their audience's concern. He reached for Shuuichi's hand, felt his fingers squeezed in a terrified death grip. He pulled the brat around the chair, wrapped an arm around his shivering shoulders, and led him toward the waiting nurse.

"Nishi Kana. Nurse-practitioner." She bowed slightly, then asked, in a low voice: "I assumed you'd want to come in together?"

Eiri nodded.

"This way, please."

She led them to a back room, where the warm reds and deep browns of the upholstery offered welcome relief from the Sterile outside the door, gestured toward a pair of comfortable-looking chairs, and settled herself in a third, legs crossed, a chart opened on her lap.

Funny, she didn't look like the grim reaper.

Eiri threw himself down into one chair, stretched his legs out comfortably, crossed his ankles and arms.

Shuuichi perched nervously on the edge of his seat, his pink hair decidedly at odds with the red.

"Shindou-san?" the NP said, gently, and Shuuichi looked up from his tightly clasped hands, his eyes like saucers. Eiri reached over, freed a hand from that lap tangle and let it grip his instead. "Your tests were clean. All of them. You appear, in fact, to be in excellent health." The tension didn't leave that small hand gripping his: the 'but' was too evident in her tone. "Unfortunately, you said your last possible exposure was less than forty-eight hours ago. That's too soon for the antibodies to be showing. Two weeks. Six weeks. Even six months. Please, Shindou-san, be very careful. We'll want to test again in three months."

Shuuichi's eyes dropped to their hands, and Eiri felt a cold spot on his knuckles, followed by a second and a third.

"Yuki-san?" He glanced up under his brows. "I'm going to be very frank with you. Are _you_ his possible exposure?"

It took a moment for the question to register. "Hell, no."

"Was he... forgive me, Shindou-san. Was he raped, Yuki-san?"

Shuuichi's head flew up, shaking in brain-rattling denial, but Eiri squeezed his hand and answered: "Perhaps not in the legal sense, sensei. Was he given any choice in the method of intercourse? No, he was not."

She studied them both for a time as if they posed a puzzle she couldn't parse. "Forgive me again, but while you both appear to have been remarkably frank in the history questionnaires, I'm honestly confused. Shindou-san claims to use condoms religiously, but for that one time. You, sir, say you've never used one in your life. From all appearances, the two of you are a well-established couple, yet—"

"We only met a few days ago. And we've never had sex." He curbed his crude tendencies, not out of respect to the nurse, but out of concern for the young man suddenly radiating the desire to escape this room.

Another of those measuring stares. "But you want to."

"Yes." It was a tiny, embarrassed squeak, and Shuuichi's anguished eyes flashed up to meet Eiri's.

A gentle smile touched the middle-aged woman's mouth. "Good. From what I've seen of those who come through here, you could be very good for one another."

Shuuichi's gaze retreated again to their clasped hands and Eiri curbed the protest that rose to his lips. The nurse continued, oblivious—or indifferent—to his rising irritation.

"Please, Shindou-san, rest easy. I doubt very much you've been infected. It would be better to get the man responsible for that rape—yes, dear, rape, don't you dare take karma for that event—but it would be best to get him—"

"Them," Eiri snapped, not even trying to contain his contempt, refusing to let that tortured violet gaze move him from the track. "And damn right they'll be tested—the lot of them. Touma will see to it." That, to Shindou. "Already seen to."

Shindou's brows tweaked into a tiny frown of confusion, then rose in wonder as his marvelous mouth moved in a silent _thank you._

"Very good." She gave a quick nod of approval. "One final thing, Shindou-san, I would recommend a full examination, for other injuries." She looked pointedly at the tiny gemstones affixed to his face, but didn't ask, making Eiri wonder what types of self-mutilated individuals passed through her doors. Mutilation in the name of fashion, kicks...and sex.

"I'm okay," Shindou mumbled.

"I'm certain you are," she said, in that gentle voice she used for Shindou. "While they were at it, I had the lab run a few standard tests, white count and such, and those tests would indicate you are, indeed, okay, however . . . " She chewed her lip a moment, as if still unsatisfied, then, in an even gentler voice: "Still, my dear, we truly should get samples, for identification purposes, you know, just in case you change your mind about prosecuting these individuals."

Shindou just shook his head miserably. Eiri frowned and squeezed his hand. "Don't be an idiot, Shindou. I didn't _see_ them in the act, and you might need—"

"I don't want to prosecute anyone," Shindou said softly.

"Well, that's certainly your choice," the NP said, but the look she gave Eiri past Shuuichi's bent head recommended _he _do something to change the brat's mind.

Fuck.

"Now, for you, Yuki-san."

Double fuck. He'd totally forgotten his own fate.

"You're very lucky, sir." All the gentleness had disappeared from the nurse's voice. She was all business now. "Far more lucky than you deserve, though I must commend your honesty in your answers. A vasectomy only solves the least of your worries. You've played Russian Roulette with your _life_, young sir, and I suggest you emulate this young man's attitude in the future. Get yourselves a clean bill of health, remain faithful to one another, and do as you please. With each other. If you, either of you, stray, for your own sakes, be honest with one another. This is not a day and age to be careless. Do we understand one another?"

He frowned. Hard. Not liking this assumption that they were a couple, past, present and future. The NP just lifted an eyebrow.

"I think we do," she said calmly. "Now, pending the results of the tests your _Touma_ will be getting, I'm going to recommend you both, just to be on the safe side, begin a four week course of AZT. It's been shown to be very effective in preventing the development of HIV if taken immediately after exposure. Shindou-san should be quite safe, especially if the individuals responsible for his presence here prove to be infection-free. You, Yuki-san, have a much more difficult situation. Considering your most recent encounters have been with women who all claimed to be clean, you're probably safe, but I'd recommend you both take the precautionary treatment."

"Side effects?" Yuki asked, not liking the sound of this at all. He'd much rather take his chances.

"Nothing terrible. No hair loss or anything of that sort. Dosages and the drugs themselves have become quite refined. Many people have no reaction whatsoever. Mild nausea, possibly. Fatigue. Headache. That sort of thing."

"I–is it expensive?" Shindou asked, his voice barely above a whisper, and before the nurse could answer, Eiri said firmly, "NG will damnwell foot the bill, if Touma has to get it out of Sakano's hide."

Shindou shook his head slowly. "My fault. I..."

"Shindou-san," the NP said gently, "unless those people can produce a stellar bill of health, you aren't in a position to argue. Neither is it fair that you run any risk having been victimized by these lowlifes. Either way, for a month, it's not that much. We'll work something out, all right?"

Shuuichi said nothing.

"Say 'yes,' baka," Eiri hissed.

Staring down at his hands, Shuuichi asked softly, "If we're both on the pills, will it be safe to... um... you know?"

The nurse frowned. "Is that you asking, Shindou-san, or Yuki-san?"

Shuuichi looked up, slowly, and met Eiri's gaze. His eyes were calm, at peace. Eiri felt his heart stop, wondering if he'd ever seen such trust, wondering what in hell he'd done to deserve it.

That gaze shifted to the nurse. "Me, sensei. Completely."

_I want to know..._

Dear Buddha in heaven, what was he getting himself into?

**TBC**

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**A/N**: Regarding the HIV tests and recommended treatment: My "research" was confined to internet medical sources. According to them they now have tests that take only fifteen minutes for results. Amazing. And the month of HIV following exposure is, according to the same sources, a fairly standard treatment for medical professionals who have been exposed. I see no evidence that they currently recommend it for rape victims, but it seems to me it would be smart, and only fair. (As for recommending it for Eiri...I'm doing that mostly to torture him. :D) Also, if anyone knows the answer to Shu's question, I'd love to know as well:D

I'm guessing here at the NP's style, basing it on how I imagine the NPs I've known might handle it as human beings. I wanted to impart a major difference in her handling of Shu, who has taken responsibility, and her handling of Yuki, who has blatantly disregarded it. I seriously doubt Japanese even has an equivalent of "my dear" for use in a situation such as this, but that mode of address was one convenient way to impart that difference.

If someone reading this is a practicing medical professional and takes real exception to the nurse/patient interaction or the medical details, please contact me, privately or in a review, and let me know so I can fix it, either in the story itself or the author's notes. I don't like misrepresenting something this significant.

**Next: **_Little Bird, Little Bird_: Eiri and Shu are OtL.

**Reviews**: You guys just make my day. Honestly.

**Scorch**: I think humor is an absolute necessity in a story like this. Stories that dive headfirst into angst and never come up for air remind me of a version I saw ... well walked out on...of MacBeth where Lady MacBeth makes her first entrance oh-woeing at the top of her lungs. There was no place for her to go:D You need the emotional roller-coaster, so the angst doesn't become ho-hum, but also, the way the characters maintain their balance is through a little chuckle now and then. Shu had another cute one here, I think.

**Dragonlance**: Hey, no problemo. :D Thanks for the recommendation. As for style, hey, I'm just glad somebody likes it! Some people love tons of description and thank goodness there are writers out there who like to write it:D The whole rape thing is interesting, because it is an inherent part of the Gravi story. Shu's a strong little cookie...in part because he's got Yuki and some good experience to balance the rape, but he's fundamentally a survivor. It's very important to me not to overdue the angst and to pay proper...homage, I guess, to that strength.

**B-May**: Isn't that fun? That little bit with Eiri at the end was actually a last minute addition as I read through it and wanted a better bridge to the next chapter. Now...I can't imagine the story without it! It's strange...some of the most sweetly innocent people I've ever met are people who have been through something like this, child abuse, rape...I'm constantly amazed at their strength of spirit.

**DIA101**: Heh heh...thanks for asking. I found it interesting as well.

**A-E**: As you can see...so far, so good. (Re: their tests) Another "bloody" expletive! Yayayayayay. I've always wanted one and now I've had TWO!

**Gravichick, Misydidi, Vixyfox, Bellehime, Pinkrose, Zoe:** big Shu hugs!

**KyoHana**: Hey, congrats on your first post! Loved it. Oh, I like that line, too. And as you can see, it's the line that's going to give Yuki nightmares! Or at least headaches. Actually, the line that kinda floored me when Shu "gave" it to me was:_ To mourn what might have been, if what was had never happened_. Don't know why. Just gave me chills when I wrote it.

**Alaine**: Yeah, he is. Heh heh. I love making Eiri sweat. He _so_ deserves it.

**Bakayasha**: Shu didn't want it to stop, either. He REALLY didn't want it to stop, poor baby. I'm happy it makes you smile, but I hope your list (of reasons) gets longer real soon! Recycled airplane air! Eeeewww. This story's almost over. (Two more chaps) But I'm already started on that sequel. Real works kinda getting in the way, but I can't complain. It does, after all, feed the cat:D

**Grunhilda**: It looks to me like you'll make a great English teacher. So...which is your first language? English or Swedish? For the record, if my VP ever slips over into Omnipotent, I'm not doing my job:D Each scene s/b clearly in a given VP. I (try at least to) write what CJ Cherryh calls intense third. I love it because it gives all the intimacy of first with the flexibility of multiple VP. I'm...not a fan of the fluctuating first person. I find it clumsy at best. Yuki is one of the coolest characters I've ever worked with. I just love him to death.

**Supershu-chan**: It's probably my favorite chapter as well, for what it depicts about the characters. Enjoy the manga!

Thanks again to all the readers. —Vin


	10. Baby Bird

**Disclaimer**: _Gravitation _and its characters are the property of Maki Murakami. I make no profit from this other than pleasure.

**This is an AU**, chapter one caveats still apply. :D

**A/N:** Sorry this has taken so long to put up. I've been hi-jacked by Harry Potter. Almost done with the last book. Hopefully, my real life will then resume.

**Tsu (and HC): **thanks for the corrections! I've updated the post accordingly. If that's all that slipped past my fuzzy brain, I'll be happy!

**Warnings**: Hmmm...I think it contains one of the sweeter scenes I've ever written...so...saccharine alert.

✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴  
**Chapter Ten:  
****Baby Bird  
**✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

"I'm starving," Yuki announced as they slid into the Merc. "Food?"

Shuuichi nodded.

"Preferences?"

Tiny shake of the pink head. "You pick. Please."

"There's an Italian place I'm pretty fond of."

A little sideways glance escaped before he could properly read it. "Sounds...good."

"It's not that far from the NG building. Want to stop and see your friend Hiro? Maybe pick up some of your clothes?" Not that he wasn't cute as a button in his oversized t—

_Button?!? _He did _not_ just think that!

"Touma said he and Fujisaki weren't really expecting you and would be working on some arrangements. But I told Touma you weren't feeling well. They might be worried. Might make them feel better."

"I..." The soft voice failed, then tried again. "Y–yes, please."

Was that disappointment in his voice? Fuck, what did he expect? That they'd rush right home and jump into bed? Dammitall, he needed _food_. But first, he'd have a . . . chat . . . with Touma.

✴✴✴

"Hiro?"

_That_ was a voice he didn't expect to hear today.

Hiro pulled the earphones off and sought the source past the glare on the sound-room's window.

"Shu?"

He set the guitar in its stand and hopped off the stool as the door opened and Shuuichi himself appeared in the door. Hiro froze, bit his lip on the chuckle that threatened.

Shuuichi cast his eyes ceilingward. "Go ahead and laugh."

"Yuki-san's?"

Shuuichi nodded and giggled, pulled the oversized tee tight around his skinny waist and lisped: "Think I should just belt it and call it a dress?"

Something in him melted at that giggle, at a tone of voice he hadn't heard in a very long time.

"Feeling better are we, monkey-face?"

The giggle faded; the smile did not. "Yeah, Hiro, we are."

"Good night?"

"Better than you can imagine."

"Seguchi-san said you were still sick."

Shuuichi was silent a moment, then, to the booth's window: "Su-kun, do you mind?"

Another moment of silence, then over the room's speakers: "Of course not, Shindou-san. I'd like a break anyway. I'll lock the door behind me."

Poor long-suffering Suguru. He was probably in the middle of tweaking that last run. And yet, there was something in the tone, in the short silence . . .

"Thank you," Shuuichi said.

"Shindou-san?"

Shuuichi tilted his head. "Yeah?"

"May I say . . . it's good to have you back?"

Hesitant. A bit anxious. A part, yet still apart. Suguru would never, no matter how long they were together, share that which he and Shu shared. Hiro felt a moment's guilt, but Shuuichi just smiled, that friendly open grin only he had.

"Thanks, Su-kun. It's good to be back." The outer door clicked shut, and Shu turned back to him, the grin fading. "Sorry to bug out on you guys today."

Hiro shrugged. "Not a problem. Seguchi-san had some good suggestions that all start with the instrumentals. Suguru and I have been playing around with them. I think you'll like it. A bit . . . softer on _Heart Ties._ Gentler. I can hear you singing it already."

"Sounds good." But he could tell Shu's head wasn't, for once, on music.

"So . . . What's this about a doctor? You seem okay to me."

"I am, though I was glad to be able to sleep in this morning. It was . . . I . . . we . . . went to get tested."

"Test . . ." Then, as realization dawned. . . . "Oh."

Shuuichi crossed to his stool and perched there, elbows on his knees, fingers loosely interlaced, his gaze level with Hiro's. Level, and calm. "I want you to know, Hiro, I _was _careful. I made them all use condoms. I told Sakano to put it in the contract. And..." A dark flush dyed his cheeks, but his gaze didn't falter. "...and if it was a lady, I did. Those guys the other night...they didn't listen, didn't hold to the agreement, and I couldn't stop them. Last night, we, Yuki-san and I, I mean, we were going to, but we didn't have any condoms, so I said no, cuz those guys hadn't and I just didn't know, and Yuki-san, he offered to take the test with me, and he asked this morning was there...stuff I preferred, and then picked up the stuff, so even though we both tested clean, we'll have them, just in case, and..."

Shu's increasingly rapid explanation finally ended, as Hiro, bereft of words as the reality of Shu's recent life truly hit, closed the gap that separated them and took his friend into a warm hug.

"I'm just glad you're okay," he murmured.

"Honestly? So'm I." Came a muffled reply.

"Where's Yuki-san now?"

"In with Seguchi-san." A giggle escaped.

"What's that for?"

"He looked . . . funny. Like a cat with a mouse."

"I can't imagine."

"Neither can I, but this morning, he somehow convinced Seguchi-san to make sure those guys who did me got tested. Said we'd have the results by tomorrow."

"Makes sense."

"I dunno. He had that same look when he told me. Like he'd...won."

"Won. Won what?"

Shuuichi shrugged. "I dunno."

✴✴✴

"So, Touma," Eiri began, crossing he legs and tapping out a cigarette. "Did you get Shindou's pack?"

Touma had kept him waiting. Claimed he was on the phone.

Eiri knew better.

Touma gestured gracefully toward the door. "I gave it to Nakano-san."

"Good."

"Don't I get a thank you?"

"Depends. Did you take care of the other little matter?"

Touma's lips tightened, just for an instant. Anger, not humor. But it was fleeting. His control was back, his fake smile in place. "I'll have your answer tomorrow."

"Good." Eiri lit the cigarette and shifted to slip his lighter back in his pocket. Settling back in his chair, he removed the cigarette and relented. "Thank you."

Touma's eyelids almost, but not quite, blinked. "They were, as you can imagine, reluctant."

"Of course."

"They insisted they were . . . clean."

"I'll believe they've showered in the last month. Other than that, I wouldn't take their word for anything."

"I thought as much. I said, for insurance purposes, we required current tests."

"Fine."

"I said we'd send a team to take the samples."

Eiri lifted a brow. "Very _good,_ Touma."

"I'm glad you approve. They didn't."

"Of course. So you reached a compromise?"

"Quite."

"Do I want to know the details."

"Likely not."

"Then I won't ask, so long as you're certain it's _their_ blood."

"It will be." The tiniest of lines appeared between Touma's carefully plucked eyebrows. "Eiri,... I'm concerned about you."

"Don't bother."

"I mean it. I've never seen you champion someone this way. And this boy. He's—"

A flare of anger flickered in his gut. Or perhaps it was just his ulcer. "I don't think either of us is in a position to judge him." He took a long draw on the cigarette, waited for the soothing nicotine to calm the burn. "I've seen just enough to guess he has more integrity in his little finger than the two of us combined. He intrigues me, Touma. Nothing more."

Touma's expression shifted subtly, became far more natural. "One of your muses?"

Eiri just grunted and leaned forward to tap the sagging ashes into the blown-glass ashtray Touma slipped across the desk's polished surface. Touma knew about his muses. Knew and understood. He took the ashtray, a small work of art as the desk was a larger one, back into the chair, which was yet another designer piece.

Money; Touma positively reeked of it. Money and...questionable...taste.

"And you followed him," Touma, who should have known and probably did, continued, "you interfered...why?"

He just wanted to hear Eiri admit it.

"Instinct. The writing was already flying. I needed him. I didn't like what I was seeing."

"Needed."

Damn. Give one to Touma. He'd caught him in a too-revelatory word choice.

"Needed." He conceded.

Touma's brow lifted. "Then . . . I suppose you may have him." He sat back, fingers steepled before him. "Send him back when you're through with him. He's got a CD to cut."

"I'll do that." Eiri stubbed the cigarette out and put the ashtray back on the desk as he stood up.

"And, Eiri."

He paused, hand on the door knob.

"Try to send him back intact, will you? He owes me a lot of money right now."

He kept his face to the door to hide the smile he couldn't prevent.

✴✴✴

The kid stared rather blankly at the menu, and when the waiter showed up, asked Eiri to please order him something good. Eiri, without comment, ordered fettuccini alfredo for Shindou and spaghetti with meatballs for himself. Only when he began to order a bottle of the house red did Shindou speak up:

"Just water for me, thank you."

Eiri smoothly shifted the order to a glass of Merlot, _not_ the house.

"Nakano said you didn't drink," he commented when the waiter left. "Wasn't sure I believed him."

The Liz Taylor eyes slid down to the water glass cradled between his small, rough fingers. "Sometimes I do, but not as a rule."

"Uh, huh," he grunted, not buying the explanation for a moment. "Not even to celebrate?" He'd told Shindou what Touma had said about the assholes. Between that and the clean tests, he had to be feeling pretty confident.

"It's not..." Shuuichi swallowed hard. "The other night, they put that _stuff_ into champagne. I...I don't think I want to look at anything alcoholic for quite a while."

As luck would have it, his Merlot appeared at that moment. Timing: the essence of comedy. Eiri glanced at the wine, then at the kid, who seemed oblivious to the irony. "Should I send this back, then?"

"Huh?" Shuuichi looked up at last. Eiri lifted the glass. "Uh, of course not!"

"Good." He nodded to the waiter, who bowed slightly and slipped away.

He did like this place. It catered to a rather elite clientele and offered discrete, low-lit booths. It also offered some of the best garlic bread in the city, baked in their own brick ovens. He wondered, as he watched Shindou's white teeth nibbling a bit self-consciously at a piece, if the garlic would overpower that impossibly sweet breath at last.

Strawberries. That's what he tasted and smelled like.

And he'd come out of the studio, his backpack slung over one shoulder, munching Pocky. _Strawberry _Pocky.

_Is that your secret?_ He thought, but didn't ask, reaching instead for his own slice as he watched those eyes flicker about the booth and what of the restaurant was visible.

"Something wrong?" Eiri asked at last, and Shindou's eyes came back to him as the color rose in his face.

"I'm...kind of under-dressed, don't you think?" He'd exited NG in faded jeans, a loose, scoop-necked shirt, and an orange, zip-front hoodie.

Eiri chuckled. "Better than my tee-shirt and women's sweat pants."

That earned him a reluctant little smile. "I guess. But I wish—" He broke off as the salads arrived, and Eiri thought the subject closed, but as soon as the waiter was gone: " . . . I wish you'd said something."

Eiri sighed, feeling the angst quotient rising again.

"You look fine, you idiot. Better than half the people in here, if you'd bothered to look as you came in, rather than staring at the rug. Did you catch the old lady in the orange hat?"

Shindou's mouth twitched. "The one with the dead bird on it?"

"You got it."

That indecently infectious giggle burst out.

Eiri clamped his lips before an answering chuckle escaped and growled: "God, just shut up and eat, will you?"

Shuuichi clamped both hands over his mouth. Even so, it seemed to take an enormous effort to stop. Far too much effort. Hysterics, unless he missed his bet, still hovered beneath the surface.

"Dammit," Eiri said at last, holding out the wine. "Just take a sip."

To protect his investment, he tipped the glass into that luscious mouth rather than letting Shindou hold it. The mellow wine seemed to help and after a handful of deep breaths and half a glass of water, Shuuichi picked up his fork and attacked the Caesar salad, cautiously at first, then with apparent enthusiasm, though he lost more off his fork than made it to his mouth, and he flagged with half the salad still to go, pushing it aside and going back to nibbling the bread.

Something was definitely bothering him.

The entrees arrived, Shuuichi stared at his fettuccini blankly, then eyed the fork, a look of panic rising in his expressive eyes. Yuki laughed and demonstrated. After a weak attempt at an answering laugh, Shuuichi endeavored to copy Yuki's facile manipulation of the spoon and fork. When the fork dropped for the third time from his awkward hold, he laid the spoon quietly down, and drew his hands away from the table and into his lap, softly declaring himself not as hungry as he'd thought.

Suddenly Eiri recalled the kid's stumbling navigation of a simple strawberry shortcake, the escaping salad, and silently berated himself for bringing him to the greatest culinary eating challenge the world had to offer. Fortunately, he'd asked for a private corner booth, which meant continuous bench seating. He slid around to where he was within reach of the kid, pulling his own plate with him, and after checking to make certain none of the other diners was able to see them, he quietly wound two strands of fettuccini neatly around the fork and held it out to Shuuichi.

"Open, brat."

Eyes flickered up at him through the shaggy pink hair, glanced at the fork, then back at him...

And began to fill.

Fuck.

Shuuichi's lower lip began to tremble, and suddenly, he buried his face in his hands and his slight body began to shake with silent tears. Tears that had been forming, Eiri realized somewhat belatedly, since they'd gone into that office for their results.

Feeling more than a bit awkward, he put his arm around Shuuichi's shoulder and held him, saying nothing, and slowly Shuuichi turned to bury his face in Eiri's chest. He could feel the tension in the bony back as Shuuichi tried desperately not to make a noise, tried not to draw attention to them, and suddenly Eiri realized he didn't care.

"It's all right, Shuuichi," he murmured into the soft hair as all sense of awkwardness slipped away. "You're going to be all right."

"S–scared." The tiny whisper escaped his shirt. "I–I was so scared. I thought... we'd just finally made it, don't you see?" And the whispering trickle became a near-silent flood. "The CD was done. We _had_ distribution here in Japan. The tour... And then... I thought, while it was happening, it was punishment for all the things I did."

The waiter came over to see if everything was in order, blinked at the two of them, so closely intertwined, and Eiri shook his head ever so slightly, sending him away. Shuuichi continued, oblivious to the waiter's silent arrival and departure.

"I... I was so afraid I was going to get everything I ever wanted, only to lose it. And then ... you... Oh sweet Buddha, you came, and your kisses..." The pink head tipped back to let swollen eyes squint up at him. "I thought... I thought maybe I'd been forgiven. Given even a second chance. Then... I told myself it meant nothing. That there was no 'we.' I keep telling myself, it's one time. Pretend. A stupid, desperate attempt to pretend all... _that_... never happened. But it did. And yet, you were still there. You made Touma make those people take blood tests and you took me for the blood tests, never mind you were sure I was clean, and you took the test, too, never mind you hate needles, and then, rather than take me home and fuck me... or even just into the men's room... you brought me here, to this nice place with table cloths and everything, but then...just now, when I was too stupid, too clumsy to use a damn fork... I thought I was being punished all over again. Being made a fool of in front of the one person I want to... _Stupid _Shuuichi. _Clumsy _Shuuichi. Can't even feed himself... and just when I wanted to crawl under the table, you... I never imagined anybody... It's so..."

There was only one way to shut this kid up. But personally, he was hungry for more than garlicky saliva. On a whim, he picked up the loaded fork, slid the contents into his own mouth, then, holding it there, bent to kiss Shuuichi, sliding the pasta into his mouth as it opened like a flower in the sunlight, biting half the fettuccini off before it escaped. He pulled back slightly, allowing Shuuichi to chew and swallow, not the least surprised to be rewarded with a whimper and another whisper.

"Why, oh, why, do you have to be so damned perfect?"

He couldn't help but smile at that. "Just lucky I guess." He sobered immediately. Little did he know. "Shit, kid, don't blow it out of proportion. I'm hungry," he said gruffly and began winding up another forkful one-handed. Real men didn't need the silly spoon. "You seem like an all right kid, and I'm pissed as hell at Seguchi for putting you through all that for no reason." He stuffed a larger mouthful in and again shared it with the sweet mouth just centimeters below him. "See?" he said, around the pasta, "I'm no better than the rest. Using you to advance my own interests."

Shuuichi swallowed with an effort and too soon. Coughed and reached for his glass to wash it down. "But—"

"No 'buts,' brat." He sliced one of his own meatballs in half with the fork and offered a chunk to the now-waiting mouth. "I'm no white knight, trust me."

"Mm-mm-mm," Shuuichi hummed around the meatball. "That's good." And blinked up at him. "What's a white—"

"Forget it. I'm no traveling samurai, all right? I saw you on stage, and yes, dammit, I was interested. I'm not usually into men, but I've been known to experiment here and there. When I saw you backstage and twigged to what was going on, I was pissed."

Another shared forkful and a pause while he chewed. "I've a mean, bloodthirsty streak that wants feeding now and again, and those creeps were a convenient target."

The meal gained a rhythm, the kid cuddled against his side, shared mouthfuls on pseudo-kisses, and a line of explanation. Not his style, not his style at all, but damned if it wasn't a pleasant experience, especially when the kid relaxed and curled close, looking up at him. Waiting.

Suddenly, he found himself laughing out loud. Shuuichi pulled away, his face a mix of indignation, embarrassment, and concern.

"What?"

Eiri pulled him back, still chuckling. "You look like a baby bird waiting for its next worm."

"Eeeeeewwwww."

They'd finished the fettuccini and Eiri curled spaghetti covered with good rich northern Italian sauce around his fork and tucked it into his mouth before offering it to his baby bird. Shuuichi's mouth pressed tight. Eiri brushed it suggestively with the tip of his tongue and while Shuuichi might be able to resist the spaghetti, he couldn't resist the tongue. His eyes closed, his mouth opened and Eiri shoved the entire ball of pasta 'worms' into his mouth. When he pulled away, a few strands escaped as Shuuichi tried valiantly to handle the large wad.

Eiri laughed again—damn, when had he _ever_ laughed this much?—and began nipping the escapees, licking the saucy residue from Shuuichi's smooth chin.

As Shuuichi swallowed, Eiri caught his face in both hands and pressed the kiss deeper.

"Kami-sama, little bird," he whispered, between kisses. "What have you done to me?"

✴

Half an hour later, the leftover spaghetti tucked into the fridge, Eiri repeated the question to the little bird lying half naked and sultry-eyed beneath him.

As he had in the restaurant, Shuuichi wrinkled his nose, the only indication he even heard the question, then wrapped both arms around Eiri's neck and pulled himself up into yet another senses-shattering kiss, pressing his bare chest tight to Eiri's.

Well, hell, the question was pretty much rhetorical anyway.

Eiri explored the slim torso with his fingers, lingering over every rib, teasing the navel until a giggle exploded into his mouth and Shuuichi pulled slightly away, evading the tickling assault, while trying to retain his claim on Eiri's mouth. Taking advantage of the momentary space between them, Yuki found and attacked both nipples, twisting, teasing, and Shuuichi screeched, his whole body arched, his head falling back, freeing Eiri's mouth and exposing Shuuichi's neck and chest to that same newly emancipated mouth.

Eiri ran his tongue across the sensitive skin, pressing quick kisses, lingering to tongue the remaining jewels. Shuuichi, true to his word, hoarded each tiny gem that escaped his skin, keeping them in a carved wooden box Yuki had dedicated to the task.

Shuuichi still hadn't a clue they were anything but rhinestones.

Yuki smiled as the largest, that ruby in the center of his forehead, gave way to his invading tongue. He mouthed it, taking it down to the gasping baby bird's beak, easing the jewel inside. Shuuichi came instantly aware and held it between his lips.

"Another for your box," Yuki said softly, and Shuuichi carefully removed the ruby chip from his mouth.

The first sparkling bit thus transferred had been less lucky. It would be several days before that one saw the light of day again...if ever.

Damned if he'd go looking for it.

Shuuichi had grown quite still, staring at the chip. He bit his lips, then slowly wriggled free of Eiri's hold, heading not for the wooden box on the side table, but to Eiri's own mini-valet on the dresser, which housed everything from cufflinks to tie-tacks to loose change. Without a word, he placed the gem carefully into the tiny top drawer and slid it closed. Returning to the bed, he slipped, a bit self-consciously, back into Eiri's embrace, hiding his face against Eiri's chest.

"You remembered," Eiri murmured into the soft hair.

"It's all you asked for," Shuuichi whispered back, his fingers playing with the top button of Eiri's shirt. "Hardly enough to cover my coffee this morning, let alone rent and other food."

"Oh, let's get it assessed before you start feeling guilty."

The hand paused. "A–assessed?"

He tipped Shu's head up to face him. "Unless I'm mistaken, baby-bird, that's a pretty good little ruby."

"R–ruby?" He glanced down at his chest, where the sparkling red aureole-rings remained mostly intact, then over to the small box on the dresser, and finally back to Eiri, his eyes going wide.

Eiri grinned back. "Don't go investing in real estate, but yeah, you'll have a nice bit of pocket change, should you choose to sell them." He let his finger circle the nipple hardening within the ruby ring. "Personally, I think I'd have them set, use them to remind me of the past survived."

Wide eyes blinked and the baby-bird tilt to the head returned. "Set. Into what?"

"Hell if I know. A ring? Maybe a whole set considering how many there are..." Eiri lifted one small hand to his lips, bestowing a kiss to the ragged nails. "But only if you start taking better care of these."

Silence. Then:

"How about an earring?"

He nibbled Shuuichi's virginal ear. "You'd have to get them pierced. Maybe several times. Think you're man enough?"

"Not—" Shuuichi's head fell back as a gasp escaped him, palpably collected himself and whispered: "Not if it's for someone else."

"Idiot." He continued to attack those doomed ears. "I think they'd look great, all sparkly."

"Just..." Gasp. "One." He glanced up to find Shuuichi's heavy-lidded eyes, not on him, but on his left ear—the one bearing a simple platinum continuous hoop. Before he could move, the slender body reared up against him, and a warm, wet mouth attacked the earring.

He gave a gasp of his own that devolved into a groan as electricity shot straight to his groin.

"God, you're not—" Gasp. "A baby—" Gasp. "Bird..." A pause for a real breath as he fell backwards into the pillows. "You're a—" The rest was lost as that warm mouth devoured him.

And as Shuuichi's mouth took possession of him, he began laying plans for those sparkling bits of red and blue and honey-gold.

**TBC**

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**Next: Last Chapter...for now.** _If Only You Try._

**Reviews**:

**Mia**: Aw, I think he's a lot more fun alive. I think Touma's already laying plans. :D

**Jackie**: Thanks! Glad you're enjoying it.

SS-chan: Love to hear from you whenever. Shu just feels good to write in this. He came out so sweet. Eiri's just got him seriously off-balance. Bad-donkey Eiri. Works for me! And I couldn't possibly ask poor Shu to deal with STDs on top of everything else. Eiri OTOH doesn't deserve to be clean! But then...he doesn't yet know what Shu has in store for him. (Hmmm...but then, neither do I. Double Hmmmmm...)

**Misydidi**: bits and bobs here and there. A bit more next chapter.

**A-E**: Whoops! Sorry! OTL Out to Lunch. Usually meaning nuts but in this case, quite literal, as you can see. "Shrink" as in "headshrinker" or psychiatrist/psychologist.

**Scorch**: I loved the bathroom scene, too...specially the hair. Hehe. And Shu, who always comes out on top, couldn't possibly have HIV...unless he found a miracle cure somewhere.

**DIYA**: Unfortunately, lots of people still sleep around (particularly hetero males and females) and manage to avoid infection. That's why so many continue to play Russian Roulette with their lives. I didn't say he doesn't deserve to have everything in the book:D But honestly, there's no talk of condoms ever in the manga that I saw, which is what I used for this part of his character. Also, I did try to imply he had (and possibly still has) a bit of a death-wish following the New York Incident.

As for writing style, I love intense third because it lets you slip deeply into a character's head and gut without confining you to it. It's got all the intensity of first without some of the drawbacks.

**B-May**: I loved it, too. I was really pleased when it suggested itself. (I so love being surprised by my own story!)

**Em-chan, Alaine**: Thanks!

**Zoe**: Isn't it fun how he tries to explain away his feelings/reactions. Self-delusion is so convenient to a Yuki-type!

**Tsu**: I'm such a toad! I'm so behind on my reviews of Doubt! (Bad, Vin, BAD) Blame it on Harry. I can only manage so many involved stories at once. I'm almost done, though! As for this story, you've truly nailed it. Eiri is just plain cute. I have no idea why it turned out that way, but I have a ball writing it. Your analysis is, as usual, dead on. I have to wonder, when he has time to look back on this week, just what he's going to think of his behavior (especially the restaurant scene in this chap)...specially when he discovers he's trapped himself! I hadn't intended to pursue that angle, but, well, that looming sequel is bound to take us into that territory. That backlash is especially nasty when the person doing the lashing is in serious denial and looking for a scapegoat. I honestly can't say how this Yuki will react...probably depends on what triggers the realization.

**Bubble**: Hope you had a great vaca!

**KyoHana**: That phone conversation was another last minute addition, as is the office meeting in this chap. I'm SO glad you all "talked" me into adding the Touma/Eiri line.

My pleasure...literally. I'm really enjoying your vignettes.

**Grunhilda**: An English teacher. Oooo...making the sign of the cross. :D:D:D Actually, you should make a very good English teacher because you actually _do_ write and write very well. Too many English teachers that I've encountered were closet wannabes. Do I take it from the Swedish references that English is, if not a second language than a dual language? I'm SO jealous. I've a memory like a sieve and have never gotten past the memorization side of learning a second language to the point where I could learn to think in it. (Sigh) I'd so love to be a linguist. Instead, I was physics and math. Fortunately, I got into writing because a real linguist encouraged and mentored me.

I haven't the foggiest what waiting lines are like in dedicated HIV testing facilities. (From the internet, it appears there are same.) In here, I have Eiri's best smile moving Shu to the top of the queue. Not exactly professional, and totally unrealistic, but this is Eiri we're talking about. The man whose smile sends poor unsuspecting souls into orbit. (OVA reference) :D

As for the address and results: I don't think any HIV results are given via mail, tho some facilities will apparently give them over the phone. In this case, it's an onsite consultation immediately after. There are, according to the internet, tests which only take fifteen minutes. I figure this is one high-priced clinic...which would, come to think of it, also keep the waiting line down. What Eiri is talking about having sent to his place is the report, the written paperwork that always comes along with blood tests. Since it's not a doctor-requested test, the paperwork has to go somewhere.

Shu will bounce back. He's pretty off-balance at the moment.

**Pinkrose**: I think Touma is just a grand character because he doesn't have to be good or bad...just Touma. He's a cutthroat businessman...which doesn't mean he can't also be a loving husband/brother-in-law or even mentor.

**Bakayasha**: Heh heh...Yuki and his, er, persponals. I could so see him playing "Russian Roulette" with his life, but not his gene-set. Also, he doesn't want to give anyone permanent leverage on him...as a child would do. I don't do a lot of research because it can really become (a) a research paper or (b) take all the fun out of it, but I do want to fairly represent people I respect, such as people in the medical profession, and that includes trying to get some details of that profession at least believable. Still, one of the hardest things for me to figure is when I've got enough for verisimilitude in the story.

I was actually a bit surprised to discover that bit about the month's treatment for medical professionals accidentally exposed. I discovered it while looking up the current status of testing and time frames and it seemed like a great way to torment Yuki. How could I pass it up:D

Wheeee...Time to post and get back to Harry. Thanks again, everyone, for reading! —Vin


	11. If Only You Try

**Disclaimer**: _Gravitation _and its characters are the property of Maki Murakami. I make no profit from this other than pleasure.

**This is an AU**, chapter one caveats still apply. :D

**A/N**: Sorry to be so slow posting this. RL intruded in the form of home organization. Also, I just couldn't get this chapter to feel right, now that I've added the previous scenes and intend to continue the story. I think I've finally got something I'm happy with, so I'm going to post before I edit again!

My apologies to the authors of the stories I've beta'd in the last couple of weeks as I've been in hyper-critical edit mode.

After this, I'm going to be disappearing for a while. RL is looming overhead with many demands. I've still got a couple of stories to post, but they're going to have to wait.

**Warnings**: Hmmmm...again, only to Eiri. Poor lad. He's so doomed.

✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴  
**Chapter Eleven:  
****If Only You Try  
**✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴

Eiri reared back from the bed, rolling up to his knees to divest himself of his increasingly annoying shirt.

"Wait!" Shuuichi, his loosened jeans riding dangerously low on his hips, held up only by the increasingly active pole of flesh south of his navel, pushed himself upright, his hands reaching to intercept Eiri's. "C–can I...?" Eyes downcast, he toyed shyly with the top button of Eiri's shirt.

Eiri grunted and let his hands drop. "Thought maybe you weren't interested." Considering those little hands hadn't so much as touched the buttons. Or his fly. Or anything else with purpose aforethought.

"Not...?" Huge, round eyes met his, then slid shyly away. The top button slipped free, victim to seemingly random finger-action. One index finger inserted itself into the opening, tracing the lines of his chest, sliding down to the next button. "Of _course_ I'm interested. You're..." Another button slid free, two fingers widened the gap and a small gasp escaped. "You're gorgeous..." That soft mouth found his collar bone, a warm invader that wandered about the ever-widening expanse of skin as another button escaped it's confinement.

Gorgeous. Eiri grunted. Gods knew it wasn't the first time he'd heard that; his _fans_ said it all the time. The women he'd taken to bed were open enough in their appreciation as they ripped his clothing off preparatory to hot and heavy rutting, but somehow, those compliments always fell flat. Sure, he kept himself in shape, mostly to avoid the pitfalls of endless hours sitting at a computer, and clothing...hung well on the armature, but then, Armani could make an elephant look good.

Beauty, physical or spiritual, truly was in the eye of the beholder and most of his beholders had had plenty of outside influence affecting their verbalized assessment. Fame? Money? Attitude? All of the above? Take your pick.

The fact was, he'd been subject to too much ridicule in his youth, been made too conscious of his non-Japanese coloration, to ever accept himself as anything other than annoyingly different from the vast majority of his age peers. He was stubborn enough never to hide those looks behind dye and contacts, arrogant enough to use his fame to shove those half-breed looks down the throats of his detractors and admirers alike, but accept himself? Consider himself remotely handsome? Even in the strictly physical sense?

Not really. Not...not until those purple eyes traveled slowly across his face and body, hungry and fascinated, not until those small hands and warm mouth...worshiped...every square centimeter of skin, every nook and cranny they could find.

The kid was so damned open, so damned..._earnest..._he could make even a cynic like Eiri forget, just for a moment, the bitter realities of life. For days now, he realized past the haze beginning to fill his mind, he'd been sinking into that strange little World According to Shuuichi. First the concert. Then the hotel. A shared kiss with seemingly magical properties. More kisses. More strange behavior...

Now...this...

Who would have guessed, when he condescended to give the kid his fantasy night, that he'd find such...personal content...a part of the bargain. Not that it would last; he'd wake up in the morning the same annoyingly unusual blond-headed bastard he'd always been, but for now...

He watched, from a feather-soft distance, as Shuuichi rose to his knees, and slid the now-loose shirt off. He made no move to help, his skin, not so distant as his eyes, reveling in the little hands sliding along his arms, rough little hands so different from the talon-tipped, pampered hands that had stroked him in the past; rough little hands that reached and encircled his own hands, hands as smooth as the women he'd bedded; rough little hands that lifted his too-smooth fingers to a velvet mouth that gently explored each manicured tip.

...for now, he just let himself slide...

Velvet deserted his fingers.

Vision swirled back into focus as, still on his knees, Shuuichi leaned into him, elbows propped lightly on his shoulders. Those ragged fingernails caught in his hair as Shuuichi's wide-eyed fascination shifted to the despised, if expensively coifed, mass.

...deeper...

"It's...so beautiful," Shuuichi whispered, letting the strands drift free. A breeze caught the falling strands. A Shuuichi-breeze, coming through softly pursed lips. "It glows...like sunshine."

...and deeper...as those slender arms lowered, small hands cupping his face, holding it steady as Shuuichi's lips traced his cheekbone. He closed his eyes, cutting off the impossibly sweet, slightly out of focus, face.

"Please, don't." The soft lips caressed his eyelids, thumbs slid along his cheekbones.

He frowned, irritated because he was really beginning to enjoy himself, and opened his eyes. "Don't what?"

Shuuichi smiled and leaned back, staring at him. "Close your eyes." That baby-bird head-tilt returned as the strangely intimate gaze traced the organs in question. "I've never seen anything like them."

Well, wasn't _that_ a mood breaker? Eiri snarled and pulled away. Shuuichi lurched and caught his balance, falling back to sit on his heels, eyes wide, his arms curling around his skinny ribs protectively.

"Eiri? What is it? What did I say?"

Eiri. His given name. A Japanese name. A name he reluctantly acknowledged, but only in his own head.

"Dammit," he snapped, "my name's _Yuki._" A name he'd _chosen._ Not a name that had been thrust upon him by his parents, as his hair had been, and his eyes, his goddamned perfect features.

Perfect. For an ice sculpture.

An accident of genetics.

A cruel joke of the gods.

Purple eyes dropped. Purple eyes. Pink hair. The hair was by choice, an entertainer's creative whim, but the eyes weren't. Still, at least they were dark, stunningly unusual though they were at close range, they didn't stand out from the crowd.

Not like the golden cat eyes he'd been saddled with at birth.

"I...I'm sorry, Yuki-san." Shuuichi's voice shook, and he pulled even further into himself.

Shrinking. His one-night fantasy shattered as surely as Eiri's had been. With one, huge difference: Shuuichi needed that fantasy. Had damnwell earned it.

No...not one difference. Two: Eiri had promised that night to him.

Eiri sighed and after a moment's hesitation, reached for him, drawing him close, awkward once more as the magic dissipated. "I _said _Yuki, you moron. Just...Yuki."

Shuuichi sighed and curled into his hold without a hint of hesitation or awkwardness, that forgiving trust he exuded its own special magic. He leaned his head against Eiri's chest, and, very slowly, his curious fingers once again found their way to Eiri's skin.

As the fantasy threatened anew, Shuuichi asked softly: "Why do you hate them?"

"I hate a lot of things, brat. A noun would help."

"Your eyes." So, he'd figured that out on his own, baka that he was.

"None of your fucking business."

"S–sorry. But..." Defiance edged his murmuring voice. "I don't care. I _love _them. I think they're the most wonderful eyes I've ever seen. I've...dreamed about them ever since I first saw them, there in the park, which I'd _never_ have done if they were _ordinary_, so...so _there!"_

The ultimate childhood retort. Eiri glanced down into the face lifted to his, found a lower lip pouting pugnaciously. Baka, indeed. Such a perfect, multi-purpose adjective for so marvelously self-deluded an individual. He chuckled before capturing that pouting mouth with his own.

With a tiny gasp, Shuuichi pressed the kiss deeper. Baka, indeed. Despite what he'd been through, his life remained fundamentally so fucking simple.

_Which I'd never have done—_

_Damn. _

What the hell was he doing? _Magical? Fantasy? _Consciously or not, this fuckingly simple-minded idiot was determined to mess with _his _mind. _His_ reality. Time to fuck him and get out, while his soul remained the screwed-up mess it'd been for six years. Better the screwed-up mess you knew than . . . whatever alternative this kid's blind ignorance offered.

Eiri pushed him back into the pillows and took back control of the night, the mood, and the fantasy, grabbing the kid's jeans and pulling them unceremoniously down, exposing him fully.

Shuuichi whimpered and twisted away, curling on his side to hide himself.

"Dammit!" Eiri grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, grabbed his wrists and held them captive over his head when he tried to cover himself. "What the fuck are you pulling now?"

"Not in anger, Yuki. Please!" He writhed in the controlling hold, eyes squeezed shut in sheer, unadulterated panic. "_Please!"_

Fuck.

Abruptly, Eiri released Shuuichi's wrists and swung his legs off the side of the bed, breathing deeply. Behind him, he felt Shuuichi pull himself up. He glanced around, found Shuuichi sitting, arms circling his knees, hugging them to his chest, saw those big purple eyes peering over the kneecaps, begging for understanding.

For understanding _what?_ Dammit, what were they here for but sex? How dare he get cold feet after practically begging for this? But . . . _Not in anger._ And there he was, curled in a protective ball. Hiding his naked body behind two skinny arms.

And he'd asked, could he take off Eiri's clothes. _Asked_. As if he thought it might be refused. As if he thought he hadn't the right.

And suddenly, he _did _understand. How many times had Shuuichi been exposed in front of him? How many times had Shuuichi been humiliated and used, without a moment's thought given to _his _pride and _his _needs? And now, once again, Shuuichi lay naked, as his seducer remained safely hidden, in every sense. Hidden. In control. Able to use and throw away at his leisure.

Gods save him, didn't he know _exactly_ how that felt?

Anger drained away as quickly as it had flared. Eiri stood up and slowly, deliberately, unfastened his slacks and let them fall to the floor. His shorts followed, and he stood there, steadily, allowing Shuuichi time to take in the image. Allowing Shuuichi the option. Waiting. His own desire obvious. But it was desire only. It was Shuuichi's right to accept.

Or reject.

Which unprecedented altruism didn't stop the wave of relief that swept through him when at last Shuuichi's arms relaxed, when Shuuichi lay back, arms uplifted in silent supplication.

"About time," he snarled, but gently, as he stretched himself out beside the brat and took him firmly into his arms.

✴✴✴

Like everything else about this man, the sex was...perfect. Yuki had picked up condoms and lube, asking Shuuichi did he have a preference, and for all he claimed his experience with men was limited, his long fingers had prepped and teased Shuuichi until he was screaming for release.

All those times, all those other people...and he still felt like a virgin, only this time, it wasn't a sacrifice, this time...

This time, it was a gift. A gift he gave with all his heart as that big organ filled him, as he wrapped his legs around Yuki's slender waist and met him, thrust for magical thrust.

And Yuki, magician that he was, found that spot within, that spot that others would hit only on occasion and never by intent. Yuki found that spot again and again, chuckling with cool purpose as he reduced Shuuichi to a quivering, mindless tangle of exhausted limbs.

Some unknown time later, he came aware of a damp warmth, not Yuki's tongue this time, but a washcloth, gently wiping away sweat and other quickly drying fluids, followed by a large dry towel that covered him and strong arms that lifted him up and wrapped that towel around him before drawing him in against a body that smelled of herbal soap.

"You took a shower," he mumbled against the bare chest and felt a curious vibration deep within the smooth, broad expanse.

"I'd've taken you in with me, but was afraid you might drown."

So instead, he'd given him this gentle bath, an experience he might well have slept through, waking up magically to the clean scent of Yuki rather than his own stench.

"Hey, you moron, what's with the waterworks?"

Waterworks? Was he crying? _Again?_

"Sorry." He blinked his eyes clear. "It's nothing."

"Shit. Did you _want _to wake up smelling like a whorehouse?"

He shuddered and shook his head, burying himself into the covers Yuki had drawn up over them; knowing Yuki would just call him an idiot again, knowing he'd be right. And still the tears hovered just at the edge of control.

"Shuuichi, what the hell's going on?" Irritation had begun to color the smooth voice again, and Shuuichi quickly relented...just a bit.

"N–never mind. It's...it's s–stupid."

Silence, as long fingers combed absentmindedly through his hair, bringing soothing relief with them. Then:

"Why were you frightened?" Cooly asked, without a hint of condemnation...or sympathy.

"Huh?" Frightened? He wasn't frightened. Well, he was, but only of this perfect night ending.

"You panicked. You said, 'Not in anger.'"

"Oh. That." He felt Yuki pull back, knew he was looking down at him and couldn't meet his eyes.

"Did someone take you in anger once, Shuuichi? Did someone hurt you? I mean, beyond those sadistic bastards I caught you with. They weren't angry, just seriously bent."

"Yeah," Shuuichi answered, if a bit reluctantly, then finding the sting of the memory gone as quickly as it had appeared, he leaned back and met that golden gaze steadily. "Yeah, they did. But only once. And I got away before ... before they did much damage. Then Sakano took care of it."

"Sakano." The word, coming from Yuki's mouth, had the tone of a curse.

"Yes, Sakano." Shuuichi freed a hand from bath sheet and covers, setting it flat on Yuki's chest. "He tried, Yuki. He truly tried. He made nothing off of us, felt guilty for his inability to get Seguchi-san to listen to our demo."

"Yeah, right." And that wolfish, predatory look flashed behind the beautiful golden eyes.

"It's true, Yuki." It was important, somehow, that Yuki understand that, not just so that hard anger didn't find an outlet in Sakano, but so he didn't think Shuuichi was even dumber than he was. He dropped his hand to grip Yuki's. "Once...once I understood the game, I checked the numbers, tracked the account books. I'm no math whiz, but I'm also not a whore and wasn't about to work for some pimp. I saw the checks from the investors, saw our expenses, and he's been making enough to live on, but not much more. I..."

A small frown tightened Yuki's brow, but the wolf vanished, and his fingers brushed the hair back from Shuuichi's eyes. "You're a brave kid, you know that?"

He shook his head. "It's not courage when you have no choice." He swallowed hard, fearing Yuki's scorn, but unashamed of the truth. "I'm no pimp's whore, but I'd do anything to keep singing, to get that chance to share my music with the world. Anything."

Yuki just stared at him, and Shuuichi longed to ask him what he was thinking, but couldn't, and then Yuki pulled him close again, saying into his hair, "You're the worst kind."

Which still made no sense, but there, in Yuki's arms, he didn't much care.

"So that wasn't why you were crying?"

He shook his head.

"So, why the tears?" Yuki persisted.

"I told you. It's dumb."

"I promise not to laugh."

Shuuichi pulled back to look into those golden eyes, saw a determination that warned him against further dodging.

"I...I just..." Sweet Buddha, Yuki _was _going to laugh. At him. Again. No matter his promise. "_You're _just so damn _perfect._ I just...wishyou'dbeenmyfirst, that's all." He explained in a mumbled rush to the towel's cotton folds.

Another long silence, then. "Shuuichi, the first time you...performed for one of Sakano's friends, that wasn't...your first time with a man was it?"

"My first time, period."

"Shit."

"I was just always focused on my music. I _wanted_ a girlfriend—"

"Girlfriend, huh?"

"Yeah," Shuuichi replied momentarily back in his High School years, avoiding the strangely twisted look on Yuki's face. "But it was all pretty theoretical. Now...I think now I'd settle for a pet who really wanted to be with _me_, and not Bad Luck's lead singer."

✴✴✴

Who really wanted to be with _me..._Girlfriend, boyfriend, suddenly, it didn't much matter.

Eiri didn't know which was worse, Shuuichi's first time...or his own. His, at least, had been unequivocally negative: betrayal, rape and the single-handed murder of one's rapists, one of whom just happened to be one's first love, pretty well constituted the absolute black hole of negative experiences. Shuuichi's...his held an element of self-determination that...had to hurt. Deeply. Especially to the romantic the brat unquestionably was. The fact was, he'd had a choice and sacrificed that—what had he called it? The dream of love?

"Is that what you think they wanted? What _I_ wanted? Tonight?"

Those big, stunningly hypnotic eyes blinked at him. "Of course it was. Star collectors. At least they were. You...you..."

"Yes? Do you put me in the same category?"

"_Yes._ I mean, no, I mean...well...look at me." He struggled free of Eiri's arms and blankets and towel alike and thrust himself to his feet on the bed. "_Look_ at me. Would _you_ have been interested? If you hadn't seen me on stage? If you, like some hero in one of your own books, hadn't rescued me like some idiot bitch in distress?"

"I don't write idiot bitches." He snapped out in immediate defense of his characters.

Shuuichi glared, and Eiri couldn't help a twitch of a smile.

"They're all very smart."

Shuuichi snorted. "Well, okay, the similarity falls short there. No one's ever accused me of being smart. I'm also short, skinny, and I talk too loud and too much. —I didn't have a girlfriend in school because I was the school _joke._ Okay? I was someone you laughed at, not someone you kissed."

Well, he was here to say those girls had been idiots. That was definitely one of the more kissable mouths ever created by the gods to tempt either sex. Eiri swallowed hard, trying not to drool at the tiny living statue poised defiantly in the middle of his bed. Tried to imagine that body two years ago, when slender muscle was skinny, undeveloped teenaged body.

It wasn't exactly difficult for him to imagine what going through life..._different..._did to a vulnerable artistic soul. Shy, bookish, blond-haired and pale-eyed in a land of blacks and dark browns, in a land where being foreign was one thing and being half-breed was altogether worse...oh, he understood Shuuichi's lament all too well.

"I can't deny," he replied slowly, "that the stage image isn't fucking fantastic."

"I rest my case." The tiny statue dropped back down to sit cross-legged on the bed. "And that's all costumes and makeup."

"And a body and voice like liquid silver."

That small face screwed up in perplexity. "Is that a compliment?"

He chuckled and brushed his lips against those puckered lips. "Damn straight. I can say, however, that your stage persona wasn't what first got _my _interest. In fact, I can honestly say it wasn't your appearance at all."

It was a deliberate tease, but Shuuichi's head just tipped in confusion, his eyes begging enlightenment his lips didn't have sense enough to ask for.

"I don't know if I should tell you." Damned if he'd give such valuable information up for nothing, but the disappointment in those same eyes proved his undoing. "Oh...all right. It was your defiant defense of your crappy lyrics."

He wasn't prepared for the wince, or the head turned away in embarrassment.

"Hey, idiot, what's this?" He reached out and tilted Shuuichi's face back up to meet his gaze.

"You're right. They are crap."

"So? Your voice more than makes up for it."

"That's what Hiro says. He says my vocals are the best in Japan. Better than Ryuichi's, but I think that's just to make me feel better."

Eiri was not one to give false praise, not one to give feel good lies even in—_especially_ in—moments of obvious need. He was more likely to cut to the bone with honesty. It was, he'd always thought, healthier. And he wasn't about to lie this time. None the less, he thought carefully before he said: "You aren't."

Shuuichi drew a shuddering breath that reeked of a sad mixture of disappointment and relief.

"But you could be. Given time. Your voice is purer. Your stage image less contrived. If you can master the skills you're already damned good at without losing those essential qualities, yes, you could surpass Ryu. In that..." Gods help him, he was only too well aware. "In that, the that crap you went through with the investors might actually help, since it didn't destroy."

He expected at least a smile for that carefully constructed compliment, but what he got was a heavy sigh and a simple. "Thanks."

"But?"

"Did I say but?"

"The heavy sigh kinda gave it away."

"Don't you see, Ryu isn't just his voice, he's his songs. He can pack so much...life into them. Mine...You're right. They're crappy."

He thought back, trying to remember the song, and the amazing part was, he did remember, practically word for word.

Shuuichi, who had begun to shiver, was pulling at the covers.

"C'mere." Eiri sat back into the pillows and pulled the kid back into his arm, noting, in a tiny, unoccupied corner of his mind, that the feeling of _rightness _had returned, banishing all sense of awkwardness. He tucked his midget in close and the covers around him, and when the shivers eased, he said, once again choosing his words, knowing, dammit and in retrospect, just how painful his initial careless dismissal of those lyrics must have been: "Y'know, brat, they can't have been that bad, considering I still remember them."

Why he should care about hurting this time, when he never had in the past, he refused to examine as Shuuichi leaned forward, looking back over his shoulders, the desperate need for reassurance almost painful to look at. "You do?"

"Yeah. And, yeah, they _were _crap, so don't get your hopes up, but...special crap."

And so he assuaged his image and his conscience. Still he was relieved to note that Shuuichi huffed and slumped back into hiding beneath Eiri's arm with an air, not of disappointment, but of renewed trust.

And maybe even a hint of humor. The kid knew the limitations of those lyrics, had suspected patronage in Eiri's first attempt to temporize. Shindou Shuuichi could accept, for all it hurt, Yuki Eiri's peculiar brand assessment; he couldn't accept lies for the sake of a lover's feelings.

In respect of that courage, he sought a more detailed explanation of his gut reaction. "You've a ...unique and interesting sense of word choice and juxtaposition of concept. That's vital to a lyricist. It's crap because it wasn't honest. You were talking about what should be rather than what you knew."

Shuuichi pulled his knees up and huddled deeper still into the pillows and under Eiri's arm. His hands lifted, fingers interlacing in front of his small nose, then the index fingers began to tap a slow, steady rhythm.

Eiri could almost hear the wheels turning in his pea-sized brain.

Suddenly: "And is everything you put in your books true? Have you done all the things your heros and heroines do?"

"Hah! Thought you'd get me. _I'm _a professional liar, brat. That's what authors are. You, my undersized moron, aren't an author. You're a lyricist. More than that, you're one of the most fundamentally honest people I know. You confused your poor fledgling muse when you tried to write that shit about the way love could be, if only you tried hard enough."

The fingers stopped tapping and retreated into hiding beneath the covers.

"You remembered."

"I remember damned near everything about that meeting. I told you: you made an impression."

"But you never heard the finished product."

"Hmm?"

"That was just a rough draft you read." And with that, he began to sing. It was the melody Eiri had heard that first night, the words familiar, but not. He tried to listen, tried not to get caught up in that ethereally beautiful sound, floating for the first time through his bedroom, as pure and hypnotic as it had been on the night breeze in a deserted-but-for-two city park.

And he, almost, succeeded. Almost managed to listen to the words critically. He did succeed, well enough to say, with some honesty, "Better. Much..." He had to cough to free the curious constriction in his throat. "Much better." He coughed again and found a voice steady enough to ask, "When did you finish it?"

"Just now."

"Just—_now?_ Here, in this bed?"

"As I sang it. You gave me the clue. I couldn't write it because I didn't know. Now, I do."

"Know." He repeated, and with a sense of a pit opening beneath him: "Dare I ask what?"

Shuuichi oozed up out of his nest deep under Eiri's arm to wrap slender arms around Eiri's neck.

"You might not like the answer."

_I write about what love could be, if only you try hard enough..._

And Shuuichi had never had a girl friend. His only experience with the acts of love were whoring to a bunch of rich, horny men and women.

Until tonight.

_Fuck._ He thought, as those marvelous lips brushed, then pressed hard and deep into his open, welcoming mouth.

**Fin...for now.**

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**Original final sentence deleted because of looming sequel:** Maybe, just maybe, there was an answer for both of them.

Okay...you see from that deleted final sentence why your input changed it so much. It began as a nice little contained AU alternate beginning to the Yuki/Shu relationship, one where Yuki gets to play White Knight to a pretty battered little Shu. I hadn't really bothered to think it through beyond this point. But I am now. The sequel, in which we'll see what becomes of Sakano as well as our intrepid couple, will be a bit in coming...I've another story or two I'll be posting soon...but I'm not one to post without at least a really solid rough draft of the whole story. Too much changes as I write.

My thanks to all who have kept with me and this story and especially to those who have reviewed and added it to alerts and favs and all that. I love you all. When the "sequel" happens, it **will be amended to this story** not posted as a separate story, so if you have an alert on **CC: reposted,** that will alert you when the sequel starts.

**Reviews: (Warning: This gets pretty long with a fair bit of "writer-speak." Sorry. If you're not interested (and I wouldn't blame you) but would still like to leave a comment, just hit the "end" button on your keyboard and jump to the bottom. I'm human, I'd love to hear from y'all.)**

**DarkestFlameUchiha**: It's always useful to know how a reader is reacting at various points in the story. Thanks for the "along the way" reviews. I suspect (hope?) that what you are responding to in the story is the triumph of integrity over immediate gratification. More on that in the other responses.

Have I personally been in Shu's position? Let's say, I know the premise of the story is not unfounded, given human nature.

I wanted to address your initial comment, which is an important one: "Fun" for a writer often consists in exploring a variety of character permutations, that doesn't mean that one necessarily finds _pleasure _in all aspects of the story created to explore those permutations. Neither is the reader intended to derive pleasure from a scene such as this (chapter four: White (k)Nights, for those who missed the review in question). If you consider it horrific at this point, then I did my job. I _needed _something horrific to shock Yuki into serious White Knight mode in order to have believable strawberry and pasta moments later, but finding the right balance of description to suggestion to create horror rather than titillation is one of the most difficult aspects of writing a story such as this.

**J9 and DiLong:** Hey, thanks! I admit, I've been writing professionally for several years. I've alluded to this a couple of times in review responses, but only in passing because, as DiLong points out, there are some very high-quality writers in fanfic, and some really questionable ones on the shelves of bookstores, so publishing credentials don't mean that much. Gravitation fanfic is my kick-up-my-heels playground. It does mean, however, I probably have a bit different approach to writing than most and I can get pretty long-winded in my responses, cuz I've been thinking about this stuff (both content and writing style) for, well, a really long time. :D

**SexyRyu, Gravichick (Mia)**, **Murmurs**: Thanks. ;-)

**NocturnSadist**: Citrus fluff. Is _that _what I do? I was sure there must be an official fanfic term for it, and I like that one! I'm not out to write a sex guide. If details matter, I'll put them in, but for the most part, I want to know _why _they're having sex and what they're feeling and thinking...since I viewpoint from inside their heads, generally when the hormones really begin to flow, they pretty much fade to sensory-overload black. :D:D:D

**Regarding Sakano**...the question the story should really be asking is, does he _deserve_ to be ruined? I'm by no means validating what he chose to do, I'm just saying that he took, as a last resort, one acknowledged...and not technically illegal...path within the community. We're not dealing with Nuremberg here, we're dealing with willing participants...on both sides. I'm honestly not sure how it will play out at this point, but it s/b interesting. Will Sakano get off scot free? Hell, no. That much I can reassure everyone. :D

**KyoHana**: One of my favorite lines, too. He's _so_ hooked! And I agree, totally, with your analysis of the Yuki/World Yuki/Shu dynamics.

**Tsu: **See below. ;-D

**Zoe:** Before Christmas, I suspect.

**SS-chan:** You're absolutely right. The epilogue (of HP) is a waste and totally undermines a great final sentence. Best moment in the entire series (IMO)? Neville's Great Moment in the final battle. It's totally set up by previous events, timed perfectly and not overly explained endlessly after the fact, unlike, well, other parts of the book(s). But I thoroughly enjoyed the series. (And you didn't spoil a thing.)

**(SS-chan and B-May and Scorch): The Earring **simply must return in the next book. Not sure how. And button...HAH! That was one of those moments where Eiri's thought was "cute as a button" and I literally raised my hands off the keyboard and said to my inner Eiri, "You've got to be kidding me."

Shu/Hiro really is a necessary counterpoint to Shu/Eiri. Both are necessary for creating a viable Shuuichi-super-star, IMO.

**DIYA:** I had to stop because at that point because I didn't feel I had this last part right, not for a good segue into the sequel. I didn't want to hold up another week before posting _something_, so I gave you the part I felt comfortable with. I realize it did make for a rather lengthy, er, _coitus interruptus _for our lads. (Sorry, boys!)

**Tsubaki: Repeat warning! A fairly lengthy discussion regarding my brand of character development; likely boring as heck to most of you:D**

I'm, as always, indebted to **Tsubaki **for inspiring me to, uh, think about what I'm doing and why I do it. I'm going to lapse now into a few words on how I write and create characters, and why I can't promise that the occasionally downright mean Yuki we know and love-to-want-to-beat-about-the-head-with-a-two-by-four in the manga will ever quite show up in this story.

IC vs OOC is where writing fanfic and especially AU fanfic begins to get seriously dicey. In an original story, the writer has a bit more control of the reader's impression of the characters. I'm not saying total control because every reader brings a unique life-experience to the equation, and the author can never anticipate all the possible readings of their characters. You can only do your best to cover the most obvious readings and make them make satisfactory sense.

In a fanfic, you've got the additional problem of the reader's preconceptions of a character you didn't create, characters you (the author of the fanfic) have already morphed to a certain extent just by your personal interpretation of them. An AU is the ultimate danger zone for "getting a character right," because the author has the additional problem of a whole different set of fundamental character-dynamics. Even one such as this where the apparent similarities are strong, the characters are bound to be different.

I don't really know how other people write, but I personally don't predetermine actions/reactions on characters. I don't even preplan my own characters very much, other than a few basic background and personality issues, and even those are hazy at the beginning. They may even change gender. I (or the plot) puts them in a given situation and they react according to some internal paradigm my subconscious has for the character. I don't question very much as it happens. If I do, I run the danger of damaging my muse. The story is happening because of how and why the character(s) react(s) and vice versa and if I mess with that, I mess with what makes me write in the first place.

The job of analyzing those characters and making them make internal sense within the story is part of the editing process, not the initial planning stages. That's where going back in and setting up certain behaviors becomes so important.

If a given action seems OOC for the character within the story, then I will ask my internal paradigm: "Are you _sure _about this?" and if they say "Absolutely," then I try to make them fess up to why they're acting that way and either slip in justification within the scene (or at least the immediately following scene) or (far more often) go in earlier and set up the behavior/reaction. This is why I absolutely cannot post as I write.

An example of immediate handling would be the "button" sequence mentioned earlier. Backward Setup is often more subtle. I can't remember which scene I wrote first, the spaghetti scene or the balcony/strawberry shortcake scene, but the one sets up the other. I don't have to slow the spaghetti scene down with the information that Shu doesn't know how to use a fork because its already been done. Another example: the ducats Sakano gives Shu in the first chapter. That wasn't a part of that scene until after I wrote the first Yuki/Shu scene in the park. Then, I knew he needed to have one in this pocket and went in and inserted that little bit into the earlier scene.

One is an example of character setup, the other plot setup, and setup, both help avoid too much sludgy real-time explanation.

More to the point, character, for me, is never an isolated entity, aside from that handful of background influences—and even those may change as I get to know a character—and a few key...essential character elements. Characters become who and what they are when they interact with other characters and the influence of the world around them. That's why you'll see me reference the Yuki/Shu dynamic or the Hiro/Shu dynamic.

For me, what makes the Yuki/Shu dynamic viable is not Shu's whining and Eiri's insults, it's not Shu's marvelous voice and stage presence or Yuki's looks or the undoubted sexual chemistry, but rather it's Shu's incurable and slightly naïve optimism and Eiri's unrelenting honesty. Those are the essential character elements which, once violated, destroy the magic and uniqueness of the relationship, because the magic (at least for me) is not in the sexual relationship but the far more significant creative one and these characteristics, optimism and honesty, are the characteristics which nurture and feed the other's muse. I'm not underrating the obvious chemistry, or Shu's singing or Eiri's physical beauty, but sexual chemistry is far more fragile—and ordinary—than what these two bring to one another creatively.

Okay...that said, Tsu's comments made me go in and think about the Eiri that has been established in this particular story, i.e. my currently kinda mooshy Eiri. I don't really see him as being fundamentally different from the manga Eiri in character or background except in two very significant aspects.

(A) his relationship with Touma, (the Touma/Eiri dynamic) and (B) his initial introduction to Shuuichi.

(A) was established as potentially different from the very beginning with the little line "Touma listens to me...I've called every success and failure NG has ever had." That expanded as I added the Eiri/Touma scenes in response to reader input. In that, Eiri and Touma have a much more equal base-line for their relationship. Those added scenes took that shape primarily due to that one little line "Touma listens to me" and the ramifications there-in, however, this little incident has, in fact, given Eiri a focus for one of the on-going power-issues (within this storyline) between Touma and him, i.e. the fact that he spent several years in the kind of terror Shu had for one night because Touma ran from NYC, taking Eiri with him. The Shu/Eiri dynamic has already, therefore, affected the Touma/Eiri dynamic. (Mind you, I didn't _think_ about this while writing those scenes. That change in Eiri is just part and parcel now of that little inner-Casting Couch-Eiri spot of my hindbrain.)

(B) The initial state of the characters upon their first meeting. The Shu who interacts with Yuki in the park is very different from the canon Shu, but only superficially. However, it's an important difference for the Yuki/Shu dynamic within this story. He doesn't whine. He doesn't crumble when the essential Eiri hits him with his unrelenting Truth. He calmly picks up the paper and challenges Yuki immediately with his essential optimism. "Come and see my reality before you judge." Their essential natures hit head on right at the start and Yuki, instead of responding with contempt, cuts immediately to intrigued. In the manga, Shu fights an ongoing battle with that initial contempt. Intrigue is there with Eiri's attendance at the first concert, but by then it's too late. That contempt-barrier has been established and the manga-Shu's optimism has to chip away at it for the next thirteen books.

The CC Shu slips under Eiri's radar. At this point, barring a major outside influence, the chances that Eiri's opinion will revert to the contempt necessary to fuel the kind of treatment he gives Shu in the manga are slim.

Still...only the sequel knows for certain!

Whew! Sorry about that folks, but once the answer started, it just got kind of involved. Thanks again for sticking with me and for the support.

Vin


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